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yoditorian · 2 months

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Lacuna - The Rewrite - Part 2

din/gn!reader

i split the original chapter into two upon rewriting, which is why the second half is missing

original part 2//series masterlist//main masterlist

word count: 3.1k // warnings: some swears, too many italics, that's literally it tho, still 18+ no babies

“-wiped out, no one survived.”

“Well, someone did.”

They’re arguing, still. And you’ve been delivered five meals since being directed into the small office for questioning. So it’s been at least a day, almost two. Probably. The voices in the hall fade, they must be off to discuss your situation with someone who might be able to make the decision. They’ve already searched you and your pack - already confirmed you’re not a spy for the Empire - so what’s the hold up?

You don’t hear a set of footsteps approaching the door, too wrapped up in your own anxieties about what might happen if they don’t let you in. Which is probably why you jump half a foot in your chair when the door slides open. It reveals a woman, dark hair and sharp features, deep green flight suit tied at her waist. She’s pretty, although she’s clearly not sure what to make of you just yet as she eyes the binders at your wrists.

“What do you do?” She asks, arms folded as she leans against the doorframe. You don’t answer straight away, not sure if it might be some kind of test, but at least she doesn’t look overly annoyed that she has to repeat her question to get an answer.

“Pilot, mechanic, fucking janitor - whatever, honestly.”

“Triple threat,” Her voice is even, but she’s fighting a smile that gives her away immediately. Not a test, then. “What kind of experience you got?”

Shara has to admit that the rumours of a surviving member of the Corellian spy ring had piqued her interest. Jet fuel runs in the blood there, it’s a safe bet that whoever the generals had spent the better part of forty eight hours grilling has more than enough experience to hop straight into a starfighter. And with heavy losses in recent months, pilots are something the Rebellion is desperately short on.

So she isn’t shocked when you start listing every planetside transport, every planet hopper, cargo freighter, gunship, and starfighter you’ve ever worked on or flown. The list is extensive, impressive honestly. It dwarfs the experience of many of her colleagues, and Shara can’t help the thrum of excitement in her veins. Not only are you an experienced pilot, but you’re a mechanic - a scrapper, the rebels need more scrappers. Too many politicians, too many people who are far too used to having every resource in the galaxy at their disposal. It’s a glimmer of hope, she realises, in a night becoming all too dark for anyone’s liking.

“So, you can fly anything?” Shara asks, no longer hiding the wide grin on her face.

“Anything.”

You’ll fit right in, she decides - there and then.

And you do, you slot in like you’ve lived your whole life orbiting Yavin.

They drill you like there’s no tomorrow, you’ve got the deep muscle aches to prove it but it’s thrilling. Your back hurts and it’s everything you ever wanted it to be. Where the Corellian spy ring was all sneaking and secrets, the Rebel base on Yavin IV is a full scale production. Every daylight hour is spent running the same manoeuvres in the main four fighters - before you know it, you could fly any one of them with your eyes closed. Despite the pain and the exhaustion and the repetitive nature of the training, you love it. But you’ve got your eyes on the prize.

A coveted position in one of the primary starfighter squadrons has conveniently opened up, its previous placeholder reassigned, and you’re not the only one who’s sure that the fourth bunk in Green Squadron’s barracks has your name on it.

“I know I don’t see you coming for my track time.” Shara Bey’s voice is loud and clear over the buzz of the hangar, and you can’t keep the smile off your face despite the ache deep in your bones.

“Maybe I am, are you finally gonna do something about it?”

Shara launches herself at you the moment you set your datapad down, a boisterous laugh echoing off the ships. You’re steadily climbing the ranks in training, the years of experience already under your belt make you more confident in the cockpit than the other new recruits and you’re not afraid to pull a stunt or two. A flawless dead drop recovery had earned more than a few nods of approval from some of the qualified pilots. Although the Commander overseeing the recruit training made it clear that it was definitely what landed you with patrol maintenance duty on top of your usual drills in the first place.

“I talked to Draven.” She says, and your stomach flips. You’re leaps and bounds ahead of the other recruits, for sure, but nobody seems to want to sign off on your training. There’s always something about required hours or simulation times or more drills. You’re starting to get the feeling that, while you’ve got enough support from your would-be colleagues, no one in command wants you in the air at all.

“I told you I would!”

“I know, I know. But look, if I ask it’s more like an endorsement.”

“Shara-” You’re talking over one another, but not missing a single word. It’s a talent that leaves the commanding officers astounded more often than not.

“He said he’d think about it, which in command language means no-”

“Tell me there’s a but.”

“But,” She grins widely, “He told me if you get this next info grab done, he’ll put in a good word with my commanders. And my commanders know I’m not going in the air unless you’re at my nine o’clock.”

Shara’s been far more welcoming than just about everyone since the moment she’d rocked up to your interrogation room and asked about your experience. And, over the moon to find you wandering around the halls and out of the binders, she’d spent the whole of your first night curled up in your bunk in the recruit barracks - recounting every little bit of drama she could think of. By the morning, you know who was dating who, who wasn’t happy about it, which crews were rivals, and which held the fastest course runs. Hers, obviously .

You weren’t as forthcoming with your own journey, only mentioning that you’d run with some rebels for a while on your home planet, made a few detours along the way - she didn’t seem too surprised, and you wondered how much of that she knew already. Ran’s voice, still, in the back of your mind reminding you that everybody has an agenda . But her eyes were so open, so kind, you’ve yet to see that slip. Shara Bey might be the first genuinely good person you’ve ever met.

“And Kes’s crew is due to swing by tomorrow, in case you’ve changed your mind.” She winks, although she already knows you well enough to know you won’t take her up on the offer.

It had come up that first night, somewhere along the way, when she’d started lamenting about the pitiful state of the dating pool. Not something she had to worry about anymore, thank God, but a nightmare nowadays if you were after anyone who didn’t have history with someone in their own crew. She was happy to get her boyfriend to set you up with one of his friends - Pathfinders, never on base long enough to establish a history with anyone, fine enough to pass the time, and strong enough to manhandle you a little. If that’s what you’re into.

You’d still been a little wary of sharing too many details about your history, something about how you weren’t interested muttered in the dark over the quiet breathing of the other new recruits. You could only tell her that you didn’t expect to see him again. He’d gone home, you didn’t even know where home was. She’d understood, with an arm around your shoulders and an attentive ear if you ever wanted to share more, although she made it clear that the offer of a muscular pair of emotionally unattached Pathfinder arms was always open.

It’s close to a year since you got scooped up by their spies for asking about the Rebellion, but Shara’s never failed to make it seem like much longer. Like you’ve been best friends, sharing lunches and secrets on the landing pad in the shade of her A-Wing for your whole lives. Even now, she’s looking at you like she knows you - backwards, forwards, sideways, inside out. Truth be told, she kind of does. It’s a closeness you’re sure you’ve never had with anyone, and you know you wouldn’t give it up for anything.

“Someone came here last week having never left his planet before and they put him on the training roster. You’ve logged more flight time than any recruit I’ve ever seen and we didn’t even have to teach you in the first place. I know you’re Draven’s golden child, but he can’t keep you on the ground forever, kid.”

“You can’t call me ‘kid’, I’m older than you.” You laugh, shoving her shoulder with your own.

“You’re ruining the moment.” She winks, pressing a kiss to your temple before she waves at a commander calling her name and makes her way to her ship.

The datapad beeps a reminder from its resting place on your tool trolley, you need to pack for your intel grab. It shouldn’t be a long trip, Draven had assured you, a simple in and out: information in exchange for protection and transport to the base. Protection and transport optional. He makes the hard decisions, you’ve learned during your time running the smaller missions for intelligence. The more important runs get given to rebels like Cassian Andor and the group of mercs you’d seen filing into the command room a few days ago. It was an odd combination, seeing people like that somewhere like this, and you know you shouldn’t have stared but you couldn’t help yourself. Weapons strapped to every empty space on each body, armour and clothes on a number of species from all across the galaxy. One of them had looked jarringly like you, although you hadn’t really gotten a good look at their face before they’d disappeared.

Just this mission, and you’d be in the air next week. Hopefully. It’s enough to get your feet moving towards the barracks to pack.

You only need the basics, a change of clothes and some medkit refills. Just in case. Except there’s still an empty space when you zip it shut, sitting heavy between your neatly folded shirts and the top of the bag, and you keep looking at your blanket. It gets cold in hyperspace, a voice in the back of your mind pipes up, and you decide that’s good enough reason as any to fold it in alongside your supplies. It smells solidly of the clean soap of your bedsheets, his scent - Din’s scent, a mix of metal and warmth - had faded before you even plucked up the courage to go looking for the Rebellion, all those months ago. You still hold it to your nose for a moment, just to check, before it too gets folded and laid in the top of your pack.

Now you’re ready.

Din isn’t overly fond of Nevarro. It’s not an unbearable heat, the dry plains are to thank for that, but he’s not a fan of days where the wind picks up and carries the sulphur of the lava fields under the lip of his helmet. The covert welcomed him back, more or less with open arms - though he’s not sure if their ever-dwindling numbers might have had anything to do with the warm reception. He hadn’t let them go without a cut of his pay for every job he’d done for Ran, always sending something back to the foundlings, so at least he hadn’t totally abandoned them. The Armourer decided he should be their beroya , their bounty hunter, and within days he found himself tracking a quarry in a system he’d never heard of. It was easy, really, to take the skills he’d garnered all his life and apply them to this. Paz had laughed with the familiarity of an old friend and told him that if a skinny thing like Din was their beroya , they were all fucked. So at least no one was openly angry that he’d left them.

The guild rep slides a puck across the table, metal scraping against the stone, and the blue hologram flickers. The human man staring back at him is unassuming, but the notes suggest otherwise. A former senator’s assistant, with strong connections to both the Empire and the Rebellion. Din nods, flicking the puck off and tucking it into his pocket without another word.

His loyalty is to the covert, to the Mandalorians. It always has been and it always will be. This is the way. But one mention of the Rebellion has his mind surging back to thoughts of you. Everything in his life seems to. Every time he sets foot on the Crest all he can see is you, bent double with your head in an access panel and a greasy rag tucked into the back of your pants. He’d see the sun and remember how you always used to turn your face to it, just for a moment, whenever the team ran jobs planetside. You’d never told him where you came from, but Ran had let bits and pieces slip over the years. In the looming shadow of the Razor Crest, Din wonders if you ever made it off the station. If you decided to drop everything and find the rebellion, the way you said you would when you were half asleep on his chest, your mind fucked out and hazy. He hopes you did.

The tracking fob brings him to a semi populated planet, somewhere near the border of the Unknown Regions. Vast swathes of land and water are completely uncolonised, left to nature, only a few cities dotted here and there over the whole planet. The bounty is evidently in possession of some brains, having chosen a mid-sized city to get lost in, and Din is almost disappointed that he knows it won’t take long. Wishes he’d picked a different puck, a little further away. Just to keep his mind occupied and out of more dangerous territories.

He stays vigilant, but pays no mind to the beeping of the fob on his belt. He can steal a moment, he thinks, to take in the area. To live the life of some extravagant explorer in his mind while he does a little recon, the life he might have led before it was cruelly snatched away in seconds on Aq Vetina. The last thing he expects to see when he walks into that crumbling little cantina is you.

Din spins on his heel and is out of the door almost as soon as he enters, slipping down the alley to the side of the building to catch his breath. He’s fairly sure you don’t notice - but his mind is reeling, echoes of the vows he swore as a child and the Armourer’s words swirl in his ears.

His loyalty is to the covert. His loyalty is to the covert. His loyalty is to the covert.

But he only sees you. The way you always had time for him back on the station, how you told the others where they could shove it but always gave him a smile. You went above and beyond to help him without complaint when he asked, only ever got snippy with him when someone else had pissed you off first. He still remembers the way you felt in his hands, how you sounded, how you tasted. He still thinks about it on quiet nights, more often than he should. This is not the place to remember, there’ll be time for that later, although his body needs another minute to be completely convinced.

All he feels is guilt, once the blood comes back up to his brain. Guilt over the covert, over his vows and his creed and his people. But what’s more convincing is the guilt he has over you. Over how he just walked away, left you sleeping, and took the ship you’d spent months working on. Even if you were the one who told him to take it. You’re beautiful, still. Of course you are, you always have been to him.

You notice when he walks in this time.

The sunlight streaming in from a window catches on the glass of his visor and your heart jumps into your throat. You don’t know if he’s spotted you yet, as he takes a seat at a table by the door angled away from you. Logically, you’d say it could be any Mandalorian. But you spent countless hours studying the way he moves, you had to know his gait to know if walking around a corner would get you killed or not. It almost had on more than one occasion. You could recognise his footsteps anywhere.

The untrained eye would think him relaxed, as relaxed as a man in head to toe armour can be, but you know better. There’s a tension in his shoulders, the same he used to get when Xi’an made another move on him with that grating giggle or Qin handled a blaster too roughly. His hand sits on his thigh, fingers splayed, ready to find the smooth contours of his blaster at any moment. Ever the soldier, never quite at ease. Apart from the last time you thought you’d ever see him, it seemed.

He leaves before you’re even done with your drink, sitting there for barely five minutes when he throws a couple of credits on the table for a drink he didn’t buy and stalks out. You sigh and down the rest of your drink, hoping it’ll quell the nausea rising in your stomach. It doesn’t, but you follow him out all the same.

You’re sure you were right behind him, weaving through the slowly emptying streets as the sun sets and the chill of the night begins to settle in, but now he’s nowhere to be found. Until you feel a set of eyes land heavily on your shoulders. You turn, slowly, and catch a glimpse of where he ducked into a narrow alley. The city’s full of them, but you’re certain he hadn’t been there when you passed it.

A long moment passes when you’re swallowed by the shadow of the buildings towering either side of you, a moment where he just watches you. You can’t deny you’re watching him too, carefully surveying his armour for new nicks and scrapes. There’s more than you’d like to admit to caring about.

“What are you doing here?” He breaks the silence, the tension, first. You shrug.

“Working, what are you doing here?”

Din holds a small round disk in his palm, arm stretching out towards you as the holo flickers to life and you’re faced with your contact for the intel drop.

“Working.”

Fuck.

And that’s when a really, really bad idea starts to take shape.

i don't have access to my old taglist forms anymore so feel free to message or drop me an ask if you want to be tagged in future :)

#summary is i love shara bey and i want to be her best friend end of chapter #lacuna #the mandalorian x reader #the mandalorian x you #din djarin x reader #din djarin x you #star wars fic #the mandalorian fic #liz does words

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auntarctica · 5 months

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Happy post-holiday slump, pervs. I have a few things soon to drop but first, for the intrepid handful of you reading That DmC Reboot Surf AU, chapter four is now live at Ao3. Shaka. Do Not Speak Against the Sun and Lacunae (Mr. Robot) to follow.

#dmc reboot #mvmd #dante x vergil #surfer au #revergil #reboot vergil #revergilxredante

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talesofsonicasura · 2 years

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Axolotl Dreams

Chapter 1: Parental Shuffle

Here we are with the next chapter of Axolotl Dreams! Once I get better at these, I might spread out to other fandoms such as Balan Wonderworld, Digimon, etc for these x Readers. I do have other things in mind but I want to update some of my older works first.

Anyone, this can be read gender neutral or preferred gender. Enjoy.

You never thought that you meet real life merfolk, much less a entire family of four. Yet, here they were in your house. A single father called Macaque, his oldest baby son Lacuna, oldest daughter Shǎndiàn and his youngest daughter who you called Chip, Meredith.

It was quite the sight to behold, if wasn't for the three babies' father pinning you to the mattress. Not even five minutes after introductions that the large axolotl mermonkey decided to pin you. Those lower legs were just as powerful as they were effective.

Even more chillingly awkward at how close he is to completely engulfing your smaller frame. "Such a interesting little human. Caring for my runaway larva so unconditionally. The first mortal to have my full attention." Macaque pulled himself even closer to the point you could barely twitch.

Couldn't help that this closeness is bringing all sorts of scenarios to the surface. Some were...not family friendly in both ways to put it aptly. "I believe you fit all the requirements to be my larvae's nanny." I sorry what?!! That had thrown you for an entire loop but Macaque ignored your confusion.

"I happen to be a quite busy man, providing for my children and keep them happy. Sometimes I can't be at our temporary den, on rarer occasions Meredith likes to wander off when I gone. Here's the deal little human. You will tend to my larvae's needs whenever I gone and in return I offer you some of my services."

Any (forced) deal with the supernatural is guaranteed to have a very bad side to it. One that practically results in death or a fate even worse than it when a contract is violated. "However, if you harm my children or even dare reveal our existence...then I WON'T HESITATE TO EAT YOU. I have feasted upon many of your species who were foolish to even try." The axolotl mermonkey shared a smile full of razor sharp teeth that can put any horror movie monster to shame.

You had a feeling that you have no choice but to accept this offer. The fact that Macaque eats humans only solidified the evidence here. Raise his larvae or become the merfolk's next meal. "I'll babysit Meredith, Lacuna and Shǎndiàn. You didn't really need the threat." Couldn't help the whine as his weight made it harder to breathe.

A large grin spread across the axolotl mermonkey's face, clearly pleased with your answer. "The threat only makes it more fun although I'll save the reason for later. Right now, it's time to seal the contract." Next thing you knew was the feeling of teeth in your shoulder. It hurt for a second before the pain faded away.

Something purple and solid blossoming across it like a tattoo of some kind. Macaque curled his large form around your body, still pinning you but not as suffocating as earlier. All the pressure from today made it very difficult to stay awake. Sleep overcame rationality as the giant beast kept you close.

The adult Mer had been gone when you woke up but not without leaving some drastic changes. All of your furniture was set up, food fully stocked in the kitchen and some other inclusions. Water tank like cribs, an assortment of plushies or toys and thick dark violet curtains set up in one room. The nursery as all three axolotl mermonkey larvae were asleep in their own crib.

A large circular nest made from a mixture of blankets, sheets, mattress parts, to even stuff like dried kelp laid in the corner of an adjacent room from the nursery. Bookshelf lined with all kinds of literature, weapons hanging on the wall near the red curtain covered window and a large desk that held papers to writing instruments on the surface. It must be Macaque's room...

Even your bedroom had been set up as you woke up on your fully set up bed. He had placed the desk, cabinets and even your laundry where you wanted to put it. There was one thing left to check, the mark Macaque had left behind.

A dark violet tattoo that looked like a monkey's face smiling almost maliciously, eyebrows narrowed and teeth razor sharp. It would've been cute if it wasn't made by a mermonkey that eats humans. Your kind of luck really.

Thankfully, Macaque left behind instructions on how to care for the three adorable babies. Like real life axolotls, they eat just about anything that can fit in their mouths. Normal axolotls eat various insects and small fish.

Although since these Merfolk were part monkey, fruit is also included in their diet. You could make something for them with fish and fruit. Insects would be handled another day. For now, breakfast was in order.

Simple eggs, bacon and toast for you. Macaque's children would get mango plum mash alongside some lightly cooked tilapia. The cooking was only to get rid of any germs on the fish. Overall, it wouldn't take that much time to make.

You had just finished cooking the tilapia when chirps spread throughout the house. Looks like they're awake now. Thus, you chirped back in response to the babies. It was something from a documentary about monkeys. Didn't remember all the details but it was a way to communicate emotions.

Thankfully, their chirps became ones of confirmation before quieting. You grabbed your breakfasts and head upstairs to feed the three baby merfolk. Meredith was surprisingly the cleanest eater out of Macaque's children.

Lacuna had slapped the fruit mash a few times getting all over his body. Shǎndiàn merely shredded the tilapia spreading fish juice and pieces about. It was quite a mess but not too difficult to clean up. Plus your food had been spared from the flying fish and fruit mash viscera.

Thank god for stockpiling on hand towels. Truth be told, this isn't your first babysitting gig. It had been something more mandatory than optional. People these days would practically dump their kid on someone and walk away before giving that person a chance to even talk.

A good chunk of these children were honestly great kids who just had shit parents. Most were entitled brats that think the world bows to them. Fuck those garbage patch bumpkins. But yeah, this isn't the first time handling children.

You cleaned the food mess off of both Lacuna and Shǎndiàn with the hand towels before cleaning up the dirty plates. Once the dishes were put in the sink, it was time to see what else was on the list Macaque had left you. Babies often need to be entertained to stimulate healthy growth.

Plus, you didn't want to risk any of the larvae from sneaking outta the house cause they were still energetic. In fact, there were a few things you had in mind. Just needed to grab some cloth curtains...

The bathroom tub that had been still for half the day slowly began to shake. It's faucet turning just enough to let a mild yet quiet flood of water to pour down. However what came down the faucet wasn't water. A viscous dark violet blob more akin to a shadow squeezed out from the metal nozzle.

The mass continued to grow as it slushed from the tub and onto the bathroom. Bathtub faucet then shut itself off as the room was nearly filled by the purple shadowy sludge. The mass slithered out of the 'tiny' bathroom, unidentifiable form shifting into a very familiar one.

Long bulky form of Macaque, his large axolotl legs and tail trail across the floor without a sound. His nose caught the smell of lightly cooked fish, fruits and meat. The mermonkey noticed that some of the toys were missing, no doubt been moved.

Strangely, the house was mostly quiet. His children were a rambunctious bunch, never wanting to take their needed naps. Macaque would often have to tell stories or at least persuade them with a treat just to get them to sleep.

Now, it was MOSTLY quiet not complete. Cause what his ears were hearing is a sound he struggles to get. Snoring. All three of his larvae were asleep. He slithered upstairs to their room truly confirm that he really did hear snoring.

Yet there his larvae were. All three huddled together in a shared magic seal made bubble fast asleep. A cut curtain laid over a plywood cube frame with the missing toys strapped to makeshift sleeves and stilts. White laminated paper with various colors, shapes and animals piled neatly on the table.

The setup for a puppet show, an interactive learning one. At the corner laying on a muddle of curtains was you. Currently fast asleep with bits of thread and crayon chips all over your body. An amused smile spread across Macaque's face.

Who knew the mortal actually had some babysitting skills like that? He couldn't forget what he heard earlier this morning. Those six ears of his weren't for show. Macaque could hear anything if he chose to. And what he eavesdropped on is you chirping to his larvae.

'I'm definitely keeping you, little mortal. You get more and more interesting with each moment. I wonder what story that'll be made with your presence.' An amusing thought as he laid his body down and curled around your sleeping frame once more.

Macaque held down a chuckle when your head leaned against his chest. From there, he closed his eyes yet kept his hearing fully active. Then he drifted into a comfortable but alert sleep...

And that's it. I will be updating my old stuff like my headcanons. Some stories will have their words be written especially ones that look like word salad.

You might be seeing some special headcanons crop up too. Now, I want to notify that I might be trying something new with my AUs. By that, I mean some current ones and new ones could become self insert oriented.

Yep! The Reader could get involved in some of these AUs. Involvement will be different between each one, mainly when you show up and your role.

That's it for now. We'll see what happens between Reader and Macaque in the next chapter. Until next time folks, see you later.

#sonicasura #tales of sonicasura #lego monkie kid #self insert #monkie kid #lmk #fanfic #six eared macaque #six eared macaque x reader #lmk six eared macaque #macaque x reader #macaque #lego monkie kid macaque #macaque x y/n #liu er mihou #lmk macaque #monkie kid macaque

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reneesbooks · 9 months

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The Knight of Lacuna Lake - Part 6

summary: Proteus takes charge as the new king of Raedora. tw for blood gore and violence

in the previous part: Rosaleen and Birdie are murdered by Levi, who flees, and Keelan is arrested for failing in his duty to protect Birdie. he is thrown into the Black Cell, but is comforted by a golden light sent by Maura.

intro post, part one, part two, part three, part four, part five

decided to throw the entire 10k word chapter at y'all and run.

taglist (ask to be added <3): @serenanymph @lyssa-ink @oh-no-another-idea @lena-rambles @ashen-crest @tragicbackstoryenjoyer @serpentarii @allianaavelinjackson @laurenisnot

Keelan isn't sure how long it's been when the golden light flickers and fizzles out. He hopes that it means that Maura is asleep, safe somewhere and able to rest. He tries to curl up on the floor in the inky blackness, but sleep won't come. He sees the blood on Birdie's floor, hanks of silver hair that Maura loved to braid into complex patterns stained horribly red. He tries to push the memory away but it refuses to leave, hovering in the darkness in front of him no matter how hard he squeezes his eyes shut.

He screams until his throat is raw, slamming his fists into the wall as Levi's face rises out of the blackness, his eyes the moment before he disappeared, the last time he saw him before he murdered Birdie. His hand on Keelan's shoulder, telling him encouragingly that he's been improving in his reading every day. Blue lightning at his fingers, anger in his eyes.

The golden light flickers weakly to life in front of Keelan's eyes, chasing away the vision of Levi. He sobs weakly, reaching out to grab hold of it. He tastes sweet peas and sunshine when his fingers touch it. He holds onto it, needing the comfort, the protection from the waves of crushing guilt and grief. Needing it to chase away the visions of Birdie's blood on the bedroom floor, just another life he couldn't save.

The light doesn't last long, or it doesn't feel long to Keelan—either way, he is drowning again in the darkness of the Black Cell, Birdie's laughter ringing in his ears. His arms ache with the weight of her, the familiar warmth of her falling asleep in his arms as he carries her to bed. That familiar warmth as he tucked her in only hours before she was dragged from that bed and slaughtered, sheared like the little lamb she had been.

His knuckles are wet with blood and his throat is dry from dehydration. There is a scrape of metal and a tray hits his ankles. He drops to his knees, fumbling blindly for whatever had been pushed into his cell. He finds a dry crust of bread barely bigger than his palm and a tin cup of water that has already spilled all over the tray. The bread scrapes his dry throat on the way down, but the remaining water in the cup soothes it. He pushes the tray back up against the door and a hand reaches through a hole in the door, the barest hint of light spilling through as the guard grabs the tray and quickly retreats.

He paces until his feet are wet with blood too, imagining that he can see Birdie running in front of him, laughing as he chases her. He tries to speak to her, beg her to forgive him, to grab hold of her and keep her from running straight into her fate, but she is always just out of reach. He always comes up empty-handed.

The golden light returns and he holds it against his chest and sobs. As it starts to fade again, he begs Maura to stay, even as he knows it is only fading as her energy does. He hates himself for being so selfish, and cries into the darkness when it inevitably returns.

It's an endless cycle, visions of Birdie and Levi and Maura and Rosaleen and blood, always blood, chasing him around the cell until the golden light chases them away. And the golden light's horrible, sputtering death each time, plunging him back into the darkness. He thinks he will die with the taste of sweet pea on his tongue, screaming alone in the endless shadows.

The captain of the royal guard is the one who opens the door and lets light spill into the cell for the last time. Maura's golden light hasn't been there for a while, so it takes Keelan's eyes a while to adjust. He's led, stumbling and barefoot, through the silent criminals watching from behind their cell bars. He hears one murmur a prayer and almost laughs.

There is already a small crowd forming outside the gates, near the newly-repaired platform. There is a new addition, a tall wooden post with a metal ring set into it seven feet up. Keelan sees one of the soldiers from the dungeons cleaning off a long willow switch and nearly stumbles. They'd called the willows near Leyne weeping willows, since the criminals whipped with their branches always wept by the third hit.

Fifty lashes with a willow switch. He really is going to wish he was dead.

The king is sitting under a canopy erected near the platform. Maura is nowhere to be seen, to Keelan's relief. He doesn't want her to see this. Not after everything else.

A scribe is reading out the charges—for his failure to protect the young princess and for letting the murderer escape, he is to receive fifty lashes. It is only by the mercy of the crown princess that he is not killed outright as a traitor to the throne.

They attach his shackles to the ring on the post and tear away the back of his shirt. He meets the king's eyes. They are cold.

“Begin whenever you are ready,” Proteus says to the soldier with the switch.

“Keys,” Maura's voice whispers. He blinks and she is standing in front of him, her dressing gown pulled tight around her waist. Her face is streaked with tears and there are dark circles under her eyes. “Say nothing. The glamour is hard to keep up.”

Despair claws at his heart. He presses his lips together and stares over her shoulder. The crowd is cheering, calling for the beating to begin. She reaches out, brushing his cheek with her fingers.

“I don't know how long I can keep the shroud up,” she says, her voice choked with more tears. The soldier with the switch jumps up onto the platform. “But I won't let you do this alone.”

Keelan nearly bites his tongue when the first lash lands. Fresh tears leak down Maura's face. She cups his in her hands. The second lash hits and he whimpers her name, trying to hold himself together.

“I'm here,” she says.

The lashes are coming faster now, “You shouldn't…” he murmurs, quiet enough that only she will be able to hear him. The crowd is shouting, some cheering for each strike. “Shouldn't have come.”

Tears track down her face, mirroring his as the seventh strike breaks the skin. “I won't leave you.”

She presses her forehead against his and he leans against the post, closing his eyes. “Don't…don't want you to see this.” His voice breaks as the pain grows worse and worse. He's lost count and blood is dripping down his back and onto the platform. “Please, Maura.”

She shakes her head, her form flickering. Out of the corner of his eye, Keelan sees Proteus half-rise from his seat, staring at the space where Maura stands. She scrunches her nose and the image of her steadies. Proteus lowers himself back into his chair. The circles under her eyes are getting deeper. “I won't. I can't leave you.”

Someone is shouting out how many lashes it's been. Keelan's knees buckle, his shoulders wrenching as they take his full weight. He has so many left. Maura is stroking his cheeks with her thumbs, crying silently. Seeing her pain is worse than any willow switch.

“I'm begging you,” he chokes out, meeting her silver eyes. “Please.” He shuts his eyes as the switch hits his back again. “I don't want you to see this.”

She sobs once, the sound drowned out by the crowd's jeers. She leans forward to press her lips to Keelan's. “Come home to me, Keys,” she begs.

She's gone and Keelan's skin is splitting but at least she is no longer there to see it. He lets himself cry out, lets the tears pour down his face. As long as she isn't there to bear witness.

They are unshackling him, his shoulders screaming with pain as his arms are lowered from above his head.

“Chin up, boy,” the captain of the guard hisses in his ear. “If you fall, they'll leave you here.”

Keelan has to lean heavily on her, but he lifts his chin and meets the king's eyes. They are not nearly as cold, but he sees none of the man that he met in the chapel under the castle.

“Is His Majesty satisfied?” the captain calls out.

Proteus holds Keelan's gaze for a moment before looking away. “Yes. Take him away.”

“You're alright, lad,” the captain murmurs, leading Keelan down from the platform. There are shadows pushing in at the edges of his vision. “You only have to make it through the gates.”

Keelan wants to weep. The gates are miles away and he's lost so much blood that he can't feel his toes. He hold himself together with the thought of Maura's fingers on his cheeks. Her lips against his.

“That's it, lad, that's it,” the captain says as Keelan vomits in the bushes of the kitchen gardens. “You're almost there, I promise.”

They take him through the passage from the stables, likely to keep him out of sight. The dim corridor only reminds him of the Black Cell. He is relieved when they reach the barracks.

“Be gentle with him,” the captain says. The other soldiers help bandage his wounds and feed him a hearty beef stew before laying him down in his bunk.

“Thank you,” he manages to say. The captain pulls up a chair next to his bed, pushing her dreads out of her face.

“You took fifty lashes today. Most would have passed out from the pain. But not you. You're strong, Keelan. You'll be a good Queen's Knight.” She reaches out and pats his shoulder awkwardly. “Atta boy.” She clears her throat and stands suddenly. “Rest up. You'll be back to work in the morning.”

Keelan nods and turns his face into the pillow. He is asleep in minutes.

---

Maura's door flies open at eight thirty. Keelan doesn't have time to bow before she yanks him inside. He winces, the bandages on his back shifting.

“I'm sorry,” Maura says, running her hands over him anxiously. “Are you okay? They didn't hurt you anywhere else?”

“No,” Keelan says, recovering. He forces a smile. “Doesn't even hurt that bad.”

She doesn't laugh. “Liar. Take off your shirt.”

His whole face goes red and he very purposefully does not look at the four-poster bed against the wall. “Um. Why?”

She flicks her hand. His cloak and armor unfasten themselves and fall to the floor. “I've been studying healing magic all morning. Most of Levi's research disappeared after my mother's funeral, but I managed to sneak a few books away before he came back for them.” She helps him get his shirt off and he tries not to squirm as she appraises the wounds on his back.

“My father…” she says quietly. She touches the edge of one of the gashes. “I'm sorry he did this to you.”

“Birdie is dead because of me.” He shuts his eyes. “I deserved much worse.”

“No,” she insists. He feels warmth traveling across his back, following the trail of her fingertips. The pain fades in its wake and he tastes the faintest hint of sweet pea. “He forgets that this isn't Guildi. You swore your life, but the laws here are not nearly so harsh.”

“The laws allowing beatings remain,” Keelan says. “It wasn't that uncommon in Leyne.”

“It's not the same. The law is absolute in Guildi,” Maura says bitterly. “Not even the royal family is exempt from its punishments. Father…he shouldn't have done this. He called you away from Birdie; you never would have left her otherwise. He just needs someone to blame other than himself.” Keelan hisses with pain as she presses a little too hard and she murmurs an apology. “He should have never done this to you.”

“I've lived through worse,” he says.

“It wasn't necessary.”

“He's grieving.” Keelan thinks of the raid captain's hair between his fingers, the wide, pleading eyes staring up at him. The slight resistance before his sword broke the skin. “People are capable of awful things when they're grieving.”

Maura is silent for a moment as she finishes whatever spells she's using on his back. “I'm so angry,” she says quietly. “I'm angry at Levi. At my father, my mother, myself.” She presses her forehead to his shoulder and he feels tears wet his skin. “Not you, though. I'm only afraid I'll lose you too.”

He turns around, pulling her into a tight hug. “Never.”

“You can't promise that,” she sniffs.

“I can and I do. I promise that no matter what happens, you will always have me.” He kisses the side of her head. “My life in your service."

They stay in her room for the day, recovering together. Maura's spells helped close up the smallest of the gashes and speed up the healing for the bigger ones. She's too tired to do anything more and Keelan won't let her overexert herself for him.

They take all three meals in her room and Maura refuses to let any of the servants in; the kitchen maids have to leave the trays at the door. She and Keelan eat on the floor in front of the window, surrounded by books as Keelan practices reading and Maura studies the pieces of Levi's research that she stole. Proteus tries to call on her twice, but both times she locks the door and refuses to answer.

She falls asleep with her head in Keelan's lap and he carries her to bed, tucking her gently under the covers. He drags an armchair in front of the door and falls asleep in it with his sword across his lap.

It becomes their routine for a week, then two. He missed Rosaleen and Birdie's funeral—Proteus hadn't wanted a traitor like him to be there, so it had been held while he was in the Black Cell. Keelan's back heals and Maura practices every spell she can find in Levi's books. Keelan's eighteenth birthday comes and goes without much fanfare—Stiofán sends up sugared buns and Keelan and Maura finish off a bottle of his father's wine, falling asleep on the floor in front of the window.

A third week passes and Maura is summoned to see the king. She refuses.

Keelan is waiting outside the door when Proteus arrives, red-faced. “Stand aside, Keelan.”

“The princess doesn't want to be disturbed,” Keelan says coolly. “She has ordered me to turn away any who come—”

“Move aside. I need to speak with my daughter.”

Keelan's healing scars itch. “My apologies, Your Majesty, but the princess gave me orders. My life is sworn to her service. I can't let you through.”

Proteus stands there for a minute, seething. Keelan can see him weighing execution as an option. Finally, the king of Raedora spins on his heel and walks briskly away. Keelan stays in front of Maura's door for a while longer, waiting to see if Proteus plans on returning to arrest him again. An hour passes without anyone else coming, so he slips back inside.

Maura looks up from a crumpled scroll. “You were out there for a long time.”

“Just making sure he wasn't coming back.” He unfastens his cloak and sets it down on his chair. “What are you looking at?”

Her nose crinkles as she looks at the smudged ink. “A spell Levi was researching, or maybe putting together. I don't have his personal spellbook to be sure.”

“What does it do?” Keelan picks up one of the books he's been reading.

“I'm not sure. A lot of the writing is in Fiero, so I can't read it. I'll have to spend some time working on a translation.”

She works in silence for a while before Keelan breaks it. “Are you going to go to see the king at some point?”

Her knuckles whiten around the scroll, the yellowed parchment crumpling. “He had you beaten for nothing,” she says savagely. “I don't want to see him.”

Keelan nods, lowering his gaze. “I'm better now,” he says quietly. “Your magic did its job.”

“Good.” She picks up another book and squints at the writing. “Let me know if any of the pain returns. I found a recipe for a scar salve that I could try out.”

And so the routine continues.

Maura throws herself into studying Levi's research. There are still nights that she clings to Keelan and cries until she falls asleep. He holds her and tells her he will never leave, but he can feel the gaping hole in her. He has the same one in his chest and has for years. He knows there is nothing that will close it.

Proteus doesn't try to summon either of them, nor does he come to the door again. Keelan's moved most of his things into a drawer at the bottom of Maura's dresser, since he falls asleep guarding her every night and only returns to the barracks when absolutely necessary. Maura tells the servants with the nerve to ask that she has ordered him to guard her at all times until Levi has been found. Soon enough, the only ones who come to the door are the kitchen maids that drop off their meals.

Stiofán starts putting little notes on the trays, keeping them updated on the going-ons of the land. Keelan is getting better at reading, so he reads them out loud to Maura while she works on her spells. Every day she shows him something new that she's learned from Levi's research.

It seems like this could last forever, the two of them studying in a peaceful bubble on the floor of Maura's bedroom. Keelan knows that it can't—eventually they will have to face the king, and the consequences of flaunting convention and propriety to stay together. But he still likes to pretend, at night as he's falling asleep in front of the door, that this is their everyday life. That there is nothing more that they have to do.

Before either of them know it, the eve of the new year arrives. Maura has been keeping track of the days, of the passing weeks and then months. Ten weeks and two days, if Keelan remembers correctly. They're celebrating by sleeping in.

“Maura.” The king knocks on the door and Keelan jerks awake in his chair, raising his sword. Maura motions for him to hide in her washroom and he hears her open the door. He presses himself against the wall, straining his ears.

“Father. To what do I owe this early visit?”

“Sweet pea.”

“Do not call me that.”

“Maura.” There is a long pause. “The law is the law. None are exempt.”

“Not even us.” Maura's voice is smooth, emotionless. “Was there anything else?”

“Beloved, I don't want to fight with you. We…we only have each other now. Please, sweet pea. I miss my daughter.”

Maura inhales sharply. Then again shakily. “I miss you too, Daddy. I'm just…” She sniffs and Keelan's fingers curl into his palms. “I'm just so angry.”

“Me too. I shouldn't have taken it out on Keelan.”

“No.” She sniffs again. “You shouldn't have.”

Keelan can hear a smile in Proteus's voice. “Will you two join me for lunch? If you're not too busy.”

There is another long pause before Maura says, “Okay.”

The door snaps shut and Keelan steps through the doorway into the bedroom. “Are you okay?”

“Yes.” She swipes two tears from her cheeks and turns to her dresser. “I'm going to get ready for lunch. You should as well.”

He takes the hint and grabs his things from the drawer, returning to the washroom and pulling the gossamer curtain over the doorframe. He dresses quickly and helps Maura tighten the laces on her dress when she calls for him. She's been eating less and less, and refuses to ask the maids for help, insisting that they'll gossip if they have to tighten the laces for her.

She holds his arm tightly as they walk through the corridors for the first time in weeks. Keelan feels almost agoraphobic under the vaulted ceilings of the royal wing's hallways. Guards bow and murmur greetings as they pass, black curtains hung over all the windows to indicate their mourning status. Too soon, they are at the doors of the dining room.

Maura inhales shakily and Keelan squeezes her hand where it rests on his arm. “You don't have to do this if you aren't ready.”

“I'm fine,” she says, and pushes the door open.

Proteus looks up from his food. "Ah. Come in, sit."

Keelan takes his seat next to Maura and waves off a servant that tries to offer him a platter of fancy little cakes. He takes a bun and a few pieces of fruit for his lunch and Maura nibbles on a single apple.

"I know that we are still in mourning," Proteus says, buttering a piece of bread, "and the people have accepted that as a reason that you have not been seen in over a month."

"Ten weeks and two days," Maura says coolly.

Proteus's jaw twitches. "Indeed, sweet pea. But it's the new year now, and we have to present a united front. You are the future queen of Raedora. The people need to know that you will take care of them."

"You wish for me to return to my royal duties." Maura bites into her apple, sucking the juices off her fingers before asking, "When?"

"Tomorrow. We will have a session of the court for the new year."

"Fine." She sets the half-eaten apple down on her plate and stands. "I think I've had enough to eat. Sir Keelan, if you would escort me back to my room; I would like to rest."

He stands, leaving his unfinished fruit on his own plate. "Yes, my princess."

"Before I go," Maura says, turning back to Proteus. "Have you anything to say to Sir Keelan?"

Proteus's eyes widen and dart over to Keelan, then back to Maura. "Beloved, what…?"

She folds her hands behind her back. "Nothing?"

Proteus clears his throat, standing. He meet's Keelan's eyes. "I should not have done what I did." He immediately looks back at Maura. "Are you satisfied?"

She curls her lip. "Hardly."

But she doesn't force him to try again, just turns on her heel and leaves. Keelan follows her back to her room, where she throws a vase into a wall with a frustrated scream. He sits there while she paces back and forth, ranting angrily about her stupid, stubborn father who is too pig-headed for a simple apology. When she breaks down crying again, he pulls her into his arms and tells her he's just happy Proteus was able to maintain eye contact for longer than two seconds.

Neither of them feel ready, but they both know it's finally time to break the self-imposed exile.

Now that Maura is returning to her royal duties, Keelan moves his things back to the barracks. He is still at her door every day at eight. Maura refuses to enter the library and it's too cold to study in the gardens, so Proteus picks out the books and one of the servants leaves them in the parlor in the royal wing for their morning studies. After lunch, Keelan sometimes follows Maura to court, sometimes to the door of her father's study where the two of them stay shut in for hours, discussing politics and the finer points of ruling. He's never privy to those discussions, but sometimes Maura will give him a summary of the day's topics. He doesn't understand any of it, but he loves to listen to her voice as she describes it to him.

The full silver moon is approaching and with it, Birdie's birthday. Maura hasn't said anything to Keelan, but he knows that she's had the maids keeping Birdie's room spotless. He doesn't have the guts to ask her about it yet.

On the afternoon of Birdie's birthday, Proteus calls a special session of the court. The nobles crowd into the throne room and scribes prepare dozens of little slips for the messengers. Keelan stands at Maura's side, watching her fidget with the ends of her braids as she waits for the court to begin.

Proteus raises to his feet and clears his throat. The crowd hushes.

"Tonight," he says, his voice trembling with rare emotion, "my daughter, Brigit, should have celebrated her eighth birthday. Instead, she was butchered by a man who pretended to be a loyal servant. She was killed, as was her mother, my beloved Queen Rosaleen, by magic. It is in her memory that I act now." He gestures to the scribes. "On this day, I declare witchcraft, the practice of magic, or the study of it, unlawful in all of Raedora. Any who are found to be a witch, to have practiced magic, or to have studied it, must be brought to the capital to face trial before their king and princess." He sweeps his gaze over the silent nobility. "Those who have never used their magic for harm will be allowed two days to leave. Those who have used their magic for evil will face the consequences."

Maura's fingers twitch in her lap.

"If it was not for witches, my daughter would be alive," Proteus says, his knuckles white on the arms of the throne. "Instead, my baby girl is gone. Witchcraft will no longer be tolerated in Raedora. If witches do not turn themselves over, they will be tracked down and brought here by force. All must face judgment for justice to be served."

Keelan's mouth is dry, thinking of Maura's books hidden under the bed. Proteus wouldn't prosecute his own daughter for witchcraft, would he?

The law is absolute in Guildi. Not even the royal family is exempt from its punishments.

"You are all dismissed," Proteus says, resting his head in one hand. The court leaves quickly, whispering furiously.

Keelan sets his hand on the arm of Maura's throne. "Princess?"

"I was going to take Birdie riding for her birthday this year," she says, staring ahead. "She always begged to come along when I went, but she was still too small. She was finally getting big enough."

He slides his fingers down to touch her arm. "Do you wish to go back to your chambers to rest?"

"Yes," she says, standing. "Yes, I think I will."

---

"The princess's birthday is coming up," one of the kitchen maids says slyly, passing Keelan his usual breakfast sausage. He breaks it in half, tossing half to the fat kitchen cat that's supposed to catch rats but mostly trips people and begs for scraps. "Do you think she'll get any gifts this year?"

"She's still in mourning for her mother and sister," Keelan says, giving the maid an odd look. "Why would she even celebrate her birthday?"

The maid rolls her eyes. "Sometimes," she says slowly, as if he is a child, "people celebrate things when they're sad so that they can feel better." She laughs at his expression, handing him another sausage and a napkin for the grease. "Perhaps her friends will still get her something to cheer her up a bit."

Keelan bites into his sausage, smiling a little. Not a bad idea. He bids the kitchen staff goodbye, hardly noticing the maids exchanging bets.

Keelan is, technically, paid a wage, so he gets his purse out from under his bed in the barracks and counts out the coins with shaking fingers. Eighteen silver, six copper, and twelve gold. Not much, but he's sure he can find something.

The kitchen maids tell him, giggling, that most people looking for a good birthday gift for someone like Maura will start at the jeweler in the Grand Market. He doesn't want to be recognized or bothered while he is out, so he strips his horse and dons a plain cloak. Without the fancy saddle and heraldry, his fierce warhorse almost looks like the docile mare that pulled his father's plow.

The jeweler isn't hard to find—he has a large sign with a painted diamond and a throng of people perusing his enormous booth. Keelan wanders around the tables, eyes wide as he takes in the range of different jewels and precious metals. Maura loves blue and green, so he looks at sapphires and emeralds. His eye catches on a simple gold ring with a small blue stone. He catches the jeweler's attention.

“How much for this one?” he asks. The jeweler's smile is sour.

“Twenty-five gold pieces,” he says, with a decidedly nasty lilt to his tone.

“I have twelve and eighteen silver,” Keelan offers.

The jeweler sneers. “If you can't pay, put your grubby hands somewhere else.”

Keelan stiffens, glaring at him, but sets the ring down and goes back to his horse.

“Don't let that snob get you down,” a voice to his right says. He glances over to see the silk merchant leaning out of their booth. They give him an apologetic smile. “He's been a sour apple as long as he's been here.”

“Thanks,” Keelan mutters, mounting his horse.

“There's a jeweler in South Town that has better prices,” the silk merchant calls loudly, ignoring the way the jeweler glares at them. “Better prices, too, in my humble opinion.”

Keelan laughs a little. “Thanks.”

The South Town market is small and quiet, but the merchants are friendly and one happily points him to the jeweler's workshop.

It's a small building, stained with smoke from the puffing chimney. The front window has a spare, simple display featuring a single set of jewelry—a necklace, a ring, a set of bracelets, and a pair of earrings, all worked in silver and set with small red gemstones.

“What can I help you with?” a young woman asks eagerly when he steps inside. He freezes as she bounces around the counter, beaming. “Are you shopping for yourself, or somebody else?”

“Harper, go oil the tools,” an exasperated woman says from where she is hunched over a half-assembled necklace on the battered wooden counter. “Hello, love,” she says to Keelan, as Harper slinks off sullenly. “I'm Laoise, the jeweler. You'll forgive my apprentice, I hope. She is very eager.”'

Keelan's hand is still resting on the doorknob. He releases it and clears his throat. “Ah. Yes. I'm here because I want to find a birthday gift for someone.”

Laoise sets down her pliers and studies him for a moment. “What do you have in mind?”

He deflates a little. “I don't know. Someone said to go to a jeweler and here I am. She already has everything…I don't know what to get her.”

“I see.” Laoise comes out from behind the counter, looking Keelan up and down. She glances out the window, at Keelan's horse. Something like amusement flicks across her face, but she doesn't say anything about it. “How old will your friend be?”

“Seventeen. She…she lost some people recently. I want to make sure she knows that I'm here for her.”

“Of course,” Laoise says, smiling. “You're a kind friend. Tell me about her. What does she like?”

She pulls up a chair at a little table and Keelan sits, trying to think of words that will be adequate. “She's…she loves to read. She loves plants, especially sweet peas. Her favorite colors are blue and green. She likes horseback riding and stargazing.” He wrings his hands in his lap. “I'm awful at giving gifts.”

Laoise got a pot of tea from somewhere at some point and is pouring him a cup. “That's alright. I'll help you.”

“The silk merchant in the Grand Market told me to come here,” Keelan admits, accepting the cup. Laoise laughs.

“They're a sweetheart, aren't they? They send a lot of folks my way. I'm guessing the old stuffed-shirt was rude to you? Mad you couldn't pay?”

Keelan nods and sips his tea. It leaves a warm feeling in his chest, his nerves calming slowly.

“Let's get it out of the way, then. How much do you have?”

“Six copper, eighteen silver, and twelve gold.” He fidgets while she repeats it to herself silently, her brow furrowed in concentration. “Is that enough?”

“Oh, that's plenty, honey. That stuck-up egomaniac in the Grand Market is just greedy.” She rubs her jaw. “You won't want any yellow gems—it'll clash. No gold either, which is fine since I only work in silver anyway.”

“But her hair is golden,” Keelan says. “Wouldn't you want to match that?”

Laoise shakes her head. “You don't need to add to the gold; it won't match and will only make either her hair or the jewelry look out of place. No, you want to match her eyes, to pull out that color more clearly and draw attention to them.” She taps her chin with one finger, her eyes darting around the shop. “Hm. Come look at this one.”

She picks up a necklace with a delicate silver chain and a blue teardrop gemstone. Keelan thinks of the similar one that he's seen Maura wear to state dinners. “Not quite. It's beautiful, though.”

“No need to flatter me,” Laoise laughs. “I know my work's worth. We're trying to find the right one; we'll have to go through a few wrong ones.” She sets the necklace down, frowning in thought. “Does she already wear a lot of jewelry?”

Keelan rubs his forehead. “Kind of? She doesn't wear a lot all at once, but she almost always has something.”

“Makes sense.” She picks up a set of silver-and-green bracelets. “These, perhaps?”

Keelan has never seen Maura wear bracelets in his life. He thinks of her flourishing motions when she speaks and casts spells. “She talks with her hands a lot.”

Laoise grimaces and sets them down. “I should think not.” She casts her gaze around the shop again, her eyes narrowing. “Harper!”

Harper comes tumbling out of some back room, oil smudged on her nose. “I wasn't listening,” she says guiltily.

“Of course you were.” Laoise waves her hand. “Do you have that piece you were telling me about ready to be shown?”

Harper's whole face flushes. “You—to a customer?” she squeaks.

“Yes, Harper, to a customer,” Laoise says with the barest hint of a smile. “Do you have it?”

Harper disappears and reappears faster than Keelan can track, holding a folded cloth in her hands reverently. She lays it out on the counter and Keelan leans over to get a better view. She unfolds the cloth carefully, revealing a delicate ring made of braided silver and set with three pale stones. Keelan inhales softly, his eyes raking over the thin tendrils of silver that hold the stones in place.

“They're moonstones,” Harper says, vibrating with pride. “They change color in the light, see?” She tilts the cloth carefully, rolling the ring in between her fingers. The pale white surfaces of the moonstones shimmer, blue and silver and red hues crossing their faces. “When exposed to direct moonlight, some say that they can feel the moon's power through the stones. Whether or not that is true, they will often glow brighter and more vibrantly.”

Keelan reaches out but is afraid to touch the dainty piece or smudge the stones. “You made this?”

“Yes.” Harper fidgets, a bit of doubt entering her expression. “Is it satisfactory?”

“It's perfect,” Keelan breathes. He smiles at Harper before returning his gaze to the ring. “How much?”

Harper hesitates, glancing at Laoise.

“Wrap it up for him,” Laoise says. Harper nods and take the ring away. Laoise sets her hand on Keelan's shoulder. “I'll give it to you at no cost, Keelan O'Leyne.”

He jerks away from her, startled. “How did you know?”

“You pick up on things more as you get older,” Laoise says with a wink. “And you're not all that stealthy, honey.” Her expression sobers. “My mother was from Leyne. I lived there for a while as a young girl before we came here.”

Keelan's breath catches in his chest. Laoise sets her hands on his shoulders.

“You are not alone, little knight,” she says softly. “You are not the only one who remembers.”

Tears well up behind his eyes. Harper returns with a wrapped ring box tied with a ribbon. She presses it into Keelan's hands and takes his empty cup of tea. Laoise pats the side of his face.

“Leyna watches over you, Keelan of Leyne,” she says. “You are not alone.”

He walks out of the shop shaking, tears sliding down his cheeks without his permission.

You are not alone, little knight.

He rides back to the castle slowly, lost in his thoughts.

---

Proteus doesn't host a ball for Maura's birthday, as they're still in mourning. Even so, Stiofán makes all her favorites for dinner and sends up extra sugared buns with the desserts. Keelan's hands are sweating so much on the walk back to Maura's room that he thinks he's going to drop the ring.

"Sir Keelan," she says, curtsying. She goes to open the door and his heart leaps into his throat.

"Wait."

She pauses. "Yes?"

"I got you something." His mouth is dry, but he manages to smile at her. "If you're interested."

She lets go of the door handle. "Like…like a birthday present?"

"You didn't get one from me last year. Not a real one, at least." She slips her hand into his and he rubs his thumb across her knuckles. "And with everything that's happened…I just wanted to make sure that you knew…" He clears his throat. "It's a gift for you."

He doesn't drop the box, and hands it to her with steadier hands than he'd expected. She takes it but doesn't open it, turning it over and over and inspecting the sides of the box. "Where did you get this? How?"

He chances a smile. "I am paid a wage, even if it's not a big one. I got it…I'll tell you after you've opened it."

She pops the top off and presses one hand to her mouth when she sees the ring.

"They're moonstones," Keelan says, twisting his fingers together. "They change color in the light." He watches tears gather in her eyes and his breath hitches. "Do you not like it?"

Her eyes dart up to his face and her hand lowers from her mouth to reveal a tremulous smile. "It's beautiful," she whispers.

He bows. "Happy birthday." She is still staring at him and he fidgets again. "So you like it?"

Maura looks back down at the ring and her trembling fingers lift it out of the box. She slides it onto the third finger of her left hand. "It's the best birthday gift I've ever gotten." He can't help the enormous smile that breaks over his face. She stands on her toes and kisses his cheek. "Thank you."

"Anything for you," he replies.

She goes into her room and he walks on air all the way back to the barracks.

---

Keelan opens his eyes.

“Keys!” Maura's face appears above him, her eyes brimming with tears. “Thank the gods, you're awake. How do you feel?”

He blinks, trying to orient himself. He's laying on a cot in the infirmary, undressed from the waist up. His mouth is dry, his toes are tingling as sensation returns to them, and he can feel stubble growing in on his jaw.

“What happened?” he says, immediately wincing as his dry throat scratches with the effort. Maura bites her lip.

“You don't…you don't remember?”

His head aches. “Remember what?”

She drops her gaze to her lap. “You…you were helping bring witches in for the trials. One of them attacked you.”

“I remember bringing witches in yesterday, but everything else is a blank.” He scratches his jaw. The stubble must have grown in fast.

Maura's gone a shade paler. “Yesterday?”

He slides his gaze to her slowly. “Yes. Why?”

She won't look at him. “That was over two weeks ago, Keys. You've been here, recovering, for fifteen days.” Her fingers curl into her palms in her lap. “I…made a mistake.”

There is a sick feeling in his gut that has nothing to do with the healing wounds that he sees across his chest and arms. He takes a moment to look at them, to process what they are. “I was burned,” he says as it finally dawns on him. “Badly.” As sensation returns, he can feel how extensive they were. His whole chest, across his shoulders and arms. They're mostly healed now, so the pain is mild but still constant, ebbing and flowing. “But I don't remember anything.”

Tears drip down Maura's cheeks. “You were in so much pain. I thought…I must have done something wrong. I didn't mean—”

“You took my memories.” There is a distant roar in his ears. He can't feel the absence in his head, but he knows, deep in his chest, that they're gone. “You stole them.”

“I only wanted to take the memory of the pain,” she says, tears falling faster as she reaches for his hand. He pulls it away. “You…you were in agony, Keys. The witch who burned you…she nearly killed you. I couldn't…I couldn't let you live with that kind of pain.”

“You learned the exact spells that Levi used on us.” He stares at the wall on the other side of the infirmary. He can't look at her tears anymore; he isn't sure how much longer he can handle the pressure in his chest.

“I thought if I learned how he manipulated us, I could stop it from ever happening again.”

“How is this stopping it?” His voice raises, but he still can't look at her. He glares at the other side of the cot instead. “Fucking hell, Maura, how is this stopping it?”

She inhales sharply and he closes his eyes, letting his head fall back on the pillow. A moment passes silently, then another. “I will leave you to recover in peace,” Maura finally says. He feels a hesitant, fluttering touch on his hand before her footsteps pace away with a swish of skirts. He doesn't open his eyes until he hears the infirmary door open and then shut. He is alive and alone and missing fifteen whole days of his life.

He rolls over and tries to get some sleep.

---

They release him from the infirmary in the morning and he returns to the barracks, where soldiers regale him with the tale of his heroic duty protecting the king from the fire witch. The captain of the guard pulls him aside at one point and pats his head with another “Atta boy.” He just dresses and straps his sword to his side.

“You have the whole day to recover,” the captain says, stopping him on the way out the door. “You don't need—”

“I'm in good enough shape to return to my job protecting the princess,” Keelan says flatly. “Excuse me.”

The captain stares, worried, but lets him past.

He's missed the morning studies, but he takes his place next to the guards outside the private dining room and waits for the king and the princess to finish their lunch.

The doors are open before he is ready. “Sir Keelan.” Maura tips her chin up, visibly steeling herself. “The physicians didn't inform me that you were ready to return to service.”

He bows. “I swear that I am fully able to protect you, my princess.”

“Good man,” Proteus says, stepping past Maura to clap Keelan on the shoulder. He manages to disguise the wince as another bow. “We're holding court today. The witch who nearly killed you is due to go on trial. Perhaps you will be the one to dispense her justice. It would be fitting.”

Keelan swallows the sick feeling in his stomach. “Yes, my king.”

He falls into step behind Maura and pretends not to notice her furtive glances at him. He can read her face too well, knows exactly how she's feeling. The guilt in her eyes is threatening to kill him.

The court is already assembled when they arrive. Keelan sees many whisper behind their hands when he walks in and chooses to ignore that as well. He might not remember what happened, but he won't let their gossiping faze him. He's sure there are plenty of outlandish stories out there.

“We may begin,” Proteus calls out, his voice ringing over the chatter. The court falls silent and the doors at the far end of the throne room swing open. Guards file in, leading prisoners in chains. They are forced to line up along the back wall and Proteus surveys the assembled prisoners.

“You are all here to stand trial for witchcraft,” he says, his expression hardening into the same one Keelan saw on his face the day he was beaten. “The law is the law. None are exempt. The truth will be found out, and the law will be applied. Those of you who have not used your magic to harm will be allowed two days to leave Raedora.”

“Those of you who have used your magic to harm will face punishment befitting the crime,” Maura says, her voice ringing even louder than her father's. Keelan fights the urge to look at her and read the expression on her face. It's the only reading he's any good at anyway.

The guards pull the first prisoner, a middle-aged woman with stringy dark brown hair and muddy eyes, forward and onto her knees in front of the throne.

“Ah, yes,” Proteus says, his lip curling a little. “The so-called swamp witch.”

She spits on the floor in front of him. “I kneel not for you, foreign king, but for our princess. She is a true Raedoran queen.”

“I thank you for your respect,” Maura says. “But I am not the queen yet, and my father's rule still binds you. Do not disrespect him again.”

The swamp witch bows her head. “As you wish, my princess.”

“You stand accused of witchcraft,” Proteus says. “What do you plead?”

“Guilty as charged,” the swamp witch says, a little smugly. “Been the witch of my village for twenty-five years.”

“What does that entail?” Maura asks, leaning forward in her throne and resting her chin on her hand. Keelan sees her left thumb rubbing along her moonstone ring. “Being the village witch, that is.”

“Maura,” Proteus starts to say, but Maura waves a hand dismissively and he shuts his mouth, shock flashing across his face. Keelan's fingers twitch towards the hilt of his sword, wondering if she shut his mouth for him. She wouldn't use magic so brazenly, especially not in front of the king, or on the king.

Would she?

He hates that he isn't sure anymore.

“A village witch protects her home,” the swamp witch says, her eyes darting between Maura and Proteus. “She heals the sick, aids in births, and eases the pain of the dying. She keeps raiders and thieves away and serves her community faithfully. Many of us take vows to the gods and the moons.”

“Interesting,” Maura says. “What witness does this witch present?”

The guards pull forward a young woman who trembles as she realizes that she has the full attention of the royal family. She drops into a shaking curtsy. “My name is Maisy, milady,” she says, with a thick southwestern accent that Keelan recognizes. They must be from one of the villages in the swamps near Aresfield. “I was brought here ta bare-witness.”

“To bear witness to the crimes of the so-called swamp witch,” Proteus adds, but Maura waves her hand again.

“I'll handle this, Father,” she says airily. “It is good practice, isn't it?”

Proteus opens and closes his mouth, apparently speechless. Keelan's hand tightens on the hilt of his sword. What kind of game is she playing?

“Maisy,” Maura says. The poor girl flinches. “Tell me about your village witch.”

“Mistress Ennis?” Maisy blinks. “She fixed my cat's crooked tail. When the fisherman's son got fish-sick, she helped him get it out without suffering.”

“What's fish-sick?” Maura interrupts, tilting her head.

“Oh, beggin' your pardon, princess, but it's rather unpleasant,” Maisy says, flushing and glancing around at the gathered nobility. “I would never—on such royal ears as yours, milady, and—”

“That's fine,” Maura says. “Please, continue telling me about Mistress Ennis, as you called her.”

Maisy nods, curtsying again. “Mistress Ennis kept pirates away when they came lookin' for safe harbor.” The swamp witch, Mistress Ennis, chuckles a little at this. “She's a real nice lady, milady, and we were real sad to see her go.”

Proteus leans forward. “The law is the law. Have you ever seen the swamp witch use her magic to harm others?”

Maisy hesitates, her eyes darting between Proteus and Maura nervously. “Do pirates count?”

“Defending your village from pirates is not the same as harming others,” Maura says evenly. “There is no other instance of Mistress Ennis using her magic harmfully?”

“No, milady. My princess.” She curtsies again.

“She is innocent,” Maura says. She waves her hand and the guards come forward, unlocking Mistress Ennis's chains. “You have two days to gather what you need and leave Raedora.”

Mistress Ennis sinks into a deep curtsy. “As you command, my princess. I hope to someday return when you are queen.” Proteus shifts in his throne, but the swamp witch is already turning away. She says nothing more, thankfully, and leaves with Maisy pulled tight against her side.

Keelan shifts from one foot to the other, glancing between Maura and Proteus. Maura is only focused on the next prisoner while Proteus watches her, calculations running behind his eyes. Keelan isn't sure what angle Maura is playing now. He thinks bitterly that he might have a better idea if she hadn't erased two and a half weeks from his memory.

“Sir Keelan.” Maura leans back in her throne and he steps forward. She looks up at him, a wrinkle in her brow. “What's fish-sick?”

Keelan smiles a little, clearing his throat before answering. “When someone eats a fish that's gone bad. Their insides clean themselves out to keep the rot from spreading. Most vomit, but some—”

“Stop.” She holds up one hand, a little paler. “I understand now. Thank you.”

The next prisoner, a tall man with cracked glasses, kneels before Maura's throne. “My princess. I submit to your justice.”

“You stand accused of witchcraft,” Proteus starts to say, but Maura leans forward in her throne, her hand up again.

“You are a witch, yes?”

“Yes, my princess,” the man says. “My parents were witches too, but they've left this world for the one beyond.”

“What did you use your magic for?”

Keelan sucks his bottom lip between his teeth, his mind slowly piecing together Maura's plan. He doesn't have the full picture yet, but he's not sure how he feels about where all this is going.

“I'm a gardener, Your Highness.” He spreads his hands and the guards draw their swords. Green sparks dance between the man's fingers, but nothing more. “I use my magic to keep the crops of my village healthy and productive.”

“Who is your witness?”

Another man steps forward and bows. “My princess. I swear on my life, this man has never used his magic maliciously. He has helped my family's farm prosper for years, despite droughts and storms.”

“Innocent,” Maura says, spinning her ring on her finger. The court claps politely and the two men leave. The next prisoner is brought forward, spitting and struggling the whole way. Maura's lip curls, matching Proteus's. “Yes. The fire witch.”

“I'm not the only witch here, princess.” The witch spits the last word like a curse. Keelan see's Maura's fingers twitch in her lap and there is a brief golden shimmer in the air in front of her before it disappears.

“I have no doubt of your guilt,” Maura says, her voice still even despite the steel underneath. “But we shall give you the same treatment as all the others. What did you use your magic for?”

The witch spits again. “I won't say another word,” she says.

“Wouldn't that be a blessing,” Maura replies flatly. “What witness is there for her?”

A young man steps forward, averting his eyes but bowing neatly. “My princess. My king. This witch lived outside our village, see? I…I know little 'bout her, but there were lotsa stories of her powers. The village always brought her the healthiest lamb during the spring. My ma told me it was to keep the wildfires away. But…” He glances at the witch, then up at Maura, his expression hardening into determination. “I thinks she's the one who sets the fires.”

“Liar!” the witch screams, but Maura ignores her.

“Regardless of the witness's statements, your actions here in these halls were inexcusable,” she says. “You attacked my father, the king, and nearly killed Sir Keelan of Leyne, sworn shield of the crown. These are serious crimes that demand justice.”

“There's no justice to be found here,” the witch says. Her hands are still bound, but Keelan sees red sparks fizzle out at her fingertips. They stop after a moment and he thinks he sees golden sparks settle on the woman's wrist. The witch sneers at Maura. “And the princess is a hypocrite worse than her father. Magic runs through your blood, girl, and your father is a fool to not see it.”

“Sir Keelan.” Maura's eyes are cold and her voice emotionless. “She has insulted us enough. Remove her tongue.”

The witch's eyes widen and Keelan steps forward, drawing the dagger from his belt. “Yes, my princess.”

“Not here,” Proteus says, reaching out to grab Maura's wrist. “Not in front of the court.”

“I disagree.” Maura shakes him off, her eyes still locked on the witch as Keelan advances with his dagger. “I think here is the perfect place to do it. You yourself taught me the value of public punishment.” Proteus flinches. “Let it be a reminder to the others that justice does not wait.”

“There's no justice,” the witch tries to say, but the guards holding her in place force her head backwards and her mouth open.

Keelan flinches as the blood splatters across his tunic, but he steps back when his work is done and looks up at Maura. She nods and he returns to her side. The physician attends to the fire witch, cauterizing the wound to stop the bleeding. She sobs quietly into her hands when he backs away. Keelan thinks of the burns across his chest and looks at Maura again. She is unmoved by the witch's pain, staring down at her with anger barely hidden behind the sharp angle of her cheekbones. Her left thumb rubs along her ring.

“Now that we will have no further interruptions,” she says to the silent court, “we can proceed with the sentencing.” She takes a moment to inhale sharply. “Execution. She has committed treason and nearly killed a member of the royal guard. The sentence shall be carried out in two days.”

“This is why magic is no longer allowed in Raedora,” the king adds, his voice echoing around the white-faced nobles who stare in shock at the weeping witch. “Its corruption may be slow, but it will only lead to more death if we allow it to flourish.” He gestures at the guards. “Take her away. The Black Cell.”

Keelan's back itches but he keeps his eyes fixed on the floor as the fire witch is led away.

“Bring the next one forward,” Maura calls, all trace of anger smoothing over into calm.

---

Keelan pushes open the door to the barracks with his shoulder, massaging his palm. His grip on his sword had been iron during the day's trials and his muscles are cramping up. Even after three weeks, he still isn't used to the constant weight of the sword or knife in his hand.

“And Princess Maura's my favorite, of course.”

Keelan's head snaps towards the conversation that's being held somewhere deeper in the barracks. He walks quietly, not wanting to give his presence away.

“If you're going to get a long shift,” the soldier continues, speaking to a group of soldiers gathered with cups of wine and plates of dinner, “you always want to get the princess. High-and-mighty Princess Maura won't talk to you, but she at least gives you something to look at.” He waggles his eyebrows and Keelan's hand tightens around the hilt of his sword. “And to dream about later.”

The barracks fall silent as Keelan's sword flashes in the torchlight, the tip resting at the hollow of the man's collarbone. “Say that again,” he says calmly.

“Sir Keelan,” someone behind him says. “We didn't—”

“Say it again.” He pushes the tip of his sword against the man's chest, pinning him to the wall. “The part about the princess.”

“I didn't mean—”

Keelan slams his hand into the wall next to the soldier's head, his eyes shooting sparks. “Let me make something abundantly clear,” he says through gritted teeth. The soldier is silent and white-faced, wide eyes darting around the barracks at the other soldiers. Nobody says a word. “If I hear the princess's name in your mouth again, I'll cut out your tongue. Is that clear?”

The soldier gives a short, terrified nod.

“That goes for all of you,” Keelan adds, glaring over his shoulder at the rest of the gathered soldiers. “Keep the princess's name off your fucking tongues or I'll remove them.”

He sheathes his sword and stalks out of the barracks.

---

Keelan knocks on Maura's door. “Princess Maura? You summoned me?”

The door flies open and she is standing there, her nightgown half-hanging off one shoulder and dark circles under her eyes. “Keys. Good.”

She yanks him into the room and shuts the door tight. Silver moonlight spills through the windows, the curtains thrown wide open. There are strange chalk markings on the floor and spellbooks scattered across nearly every surface. Maura's bed is still neatly made despite the late hour. Keelan rubs his eyes. “Maura, how long have you been awake?”

She glances at the bed. “I didn't go to bed, if that's what you're wondering. I stayed up to prepare the spell.”

“Spell?”

“Yes.” She picks her way around the books and papers on the floor, until she reaches the chalk circle. “I've been searching for a spell to find Birdie.”

Keelan rubs his eyes again, a headache pulsing to life behind them. “Maura—”

“I know—” Her voice breaks and he lowers his hand from his eyes to see her staring at the floor, her lip between her teeth. “I know you're mad at me right now. Just hear me out.”

He softens, because he hasn't been mad at her in days, not since the last of his burns faded to the physician's shock and he realized that she'd been using healing magic to speed up the process. It's only been a month since magic was outlawed, but the trials have progressed quickly. Keelan's lost track of how many have come before them. Maura's judgment is swift and harsh—he's gotten better at removing tongues and once, an eye. The man had stared too long at Maura's chest and Keelan had enjoyed carrying out the punishment. He doesn't think about it much, filing it away with the sick satisfaction of the raid captain's head in his hands.

“I don't think that Levi killed her,” Maura says, gathering bits of parchment off the floor and pulling Keelan back into the present moment. “I think he wanted us to think that he'd killed her, but I don't think he really did.”

“Why would he—”

“So that we wouldn't look for her.” He can see the desperate hope in her eyes and something in his chest cracks. She's been hiding this, even from him, because she's terrified of what she might find. What she might not find. He resolves not to argue any further, and is immediately challenged when she says, “I just need you to be here in case I drain myself by accident.”

“No,” he says, stepping forward over one of the spellbooks. “You're not taking any risks on this.”

“I thought you would want to help me.”

His hands clench into fists. “I won't stand here while you kill yourself.”

“That won't happen. It's not likely, but if I have to push—”

“Stop.” He reaches the chalk circle and hesitates there, not wanting to ruin the markings. He meets her eyes steadily. Her lip trembles. “You won't overexert yourself. Promise me.”

“I promise,” she says. “Come stand by me.”

He does as she asks, brushing his hand against hers. She grabs it, squeezing his fingers so tightly they feel like they might pop off. He squeezes back, offering comfort if she'll take it. He feels her relax next to him.

She speaks a few words in the magical language he's heard before and the chalk markings glow with golden light. She lets go of Keelan's hand and her nose scrunches up as she continues to speak. Crystals rise up from points in the circle and dissolve into golden threads of magic that weave together into a mirror, hanging in the air in front of Maura. She stops chanting and the mirror hangs there silently, its surface showing the two of them, pale and nervous.

“You have to speak the name of the person you're searching for,” Maura says quietly. She clears her throat. “Princess Brigit of Raedora.”

The mirror swirls with mist, the image of the two of them dissolving. The mist clears and the image that appears is one that's haunted Keelan for months. The pool of blood on the floor of Birdie's bedroom, the silver hair slowly turning red.

“No,” Maura says, her eyes brimming with tears. She curls her hand into a fist. “No, that can't be it.” She thinks for a moment. “Birdie. Show me Birdie.”

The mist swirls across the mirror's surface again before it only shows the two of them again. Keelan watches Maura's reflection as anger, despair, and then anger again flash across her face. She lets out a scream and thrusts her hand out, shattering the mirror with a bolt of golden magic. Keelan flinches as the pieces hit the ground and dissolve into golden mist. The hum of magic in the air fades.

“I spent months researching that spell,” Maura says, staring at the chalk circle. “I found it in Levi's research and I thought…” Her expression hardens. “If I found it in Levi's research, then he knows how to defend against it. I'll just have to find one he doesn't know already.”

“Maura,” Keelan tries to say, but she doesn't seem to notice, reaching for one of the books on the floor. She tips, her eyelids fluttering, and he catches her before she hits the ground. He swings her up into his arms and carries her to the bed, maneuvering carefully around the spellbooks and scrolls littering the floor. Maura's head lolls against his shoulder and he lays her down gently, arranging the blankets over her.

“You broke your promise,” he says softly, leaning forward to kiss her forehead. “You overexerted yourself.”

“I'm fine,” she says, but the circles under her eyes are darker than ever and he can tell she's trying very hard not to pass out. “I'm fine.”

“It's over. It's okay.” He sets his hand on her face and smiles softly at her. “I forgive you.”

She turns her face into his hand, tears caught in her eyelashes. He stays with her until she is peacefully asleep.

#hhh my job is sucking my time and soul so i'm gonna throw a lacuna chapter at u and disappear hope that's ok <3 #i see all the tag games and asks and i will answer some when i have like. more time to think.#until then it's the start of the school year and the teacher that had my classroom before me didn't clean out any of the cabinets #so that's been my life for the last week. bc my classroom is enormous and there are a million cabinets #anyway personal rant over #this chapter is...a lot. in a lot of ways. it's the last chapter of act one #so yeah. enjoy :)#lacuna #rb original #writeblr #writeblr community #original fiction #indie author #fantasy novel #dark fantasy #keelan #maura

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mikaherondale · 2 years

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so it’s been three billion years since i’ve been active and seemingly dropped lacuna. don’t worry- i am still alive and trying to get back into writing. went through a rough period but i hope this story makes up for a little bit of lost time. all four chapters are up. its a christmas carol (not the music, the book) inspired fanfic, and really touches base with kit and his relationship to the past, present and future. i hope you enjoy;)

Small snippet like always:

Pulling his hood over his head to cover up his significant blond hair, he set forward to find a place he hadn’t been in a long time. A place where the ghosts of his past would haunt.

Link:

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armthearmour · 2 years

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Book Review: Welsh Soldiers in the Later Middle Ages

Published by Boydell and Brewer in 2015, Welsh Soldiers in the Later Middle Ages, 1282-1422, written by Adam Chapman, seeks to fill what the author perceives as a lacuna in the scholarship of the late medieval English military history. This lacuna is the role of the Welsh in the English army in the given period. This work seeks to answer several questions regarding the Welsh in English warfare: what sort of Welshmen became soldiers? How was Welsh society organized for war? What impact did wider political considerations have upon Welsh service in England’s armies?

Pursuant to this goal, the work is divided into two parts. The first part (which consists of chapters one through five) provides a chronological account of events beginning with the conquest of Gwynedd in 1282-1283 and ending with the end of the reign of King Henry V in 1422. The second part (which contains chapters six, seven, and eight) examines the organization of Welsh culture as it relates to war and the production of soldiers.

Beginning with Edward I’s Gwynedd campaign in 1282 and ending with the King’s death in 1307, the first of this work’s eight chapters examines the role of the reign of Edward I in bringing the Welsh under English influence and the role the Welsh themselves played in this process. In particular, the author pays close attention to the number of Welsh soldiers serving under Edward I even at this early date, finding that they played a substantial part in Edward’s armies even before the conquests began.

The second chapter continues with the reign of Edward II. Here, the author claims that Edward II was even more dependent upon his Welsh subjects than his father, citing the even larger numbers of Welsh soldiers serving in Edward II’s Scottish campaigns. The focus then shifts to the internal conflicts of Edward II’s reign, where the author continues to emphasize the importance of Welsh infantry in both the armies of the King and his enemies.

The third chapter concerns the third Edward and his campaigns in Scotland and France. Whereas Edward I had established a particular manner of military machine, which his son Edward II used throughout his reign, Edward III’s military career was characterized by refinement and reform of the old machine he had inherited. The author characterizes this period as a transition from the infantry focused army of Edward I to the mixed mounted archers and men-at-arms which Edward III would utilize most heavily in his war with the French. This change, Chapman claims, brought down the English reliance on Welsh troops due in large part to the Welsh economy’s inability to produce large numbers of well furnished, mounted men.

Chapter four discusses the fomenting of rebellion in Wales between 1360 and 1400. Here the author argues that Anglo-Welsh relations had been molded by war, and that this informed the Welsh attempts at self-determination. The fifth and final chapter of this section considers the reigns of Henry IV and Henry V, the second Welsh rebellion, and the resumption of the war in France. In particular, Chapman argues that the second rebellion “remilitarized” Wales, which led to a readoption of the infantry archer by Henry V for his Agincourt campaign.

The second section of the book focuses on military and social organization. Chapter six, in particular, considers military organization and obligation, focusing on the shifting military obligations of the Welsh to the English crown as the organization of the English army changed. Chapter seven discusses Welsh recruitment and deployment, once again paying particular attention to the changing elements of recruitment and deployment as the nature of the English army changed, but also discussing topics such as pay and other rewards for military service. The eighth and final chapter of the work considers the Welsh soldier and his equipment in terms of distinguishing him from his English contemporaries. This chapter also considers the particularly Welsh tactics employed by the Gaelic members of the English army. Finally Chapman synthesizes his information and arguments with a concluding chapter.

The main body of the text is followed by two appendices, the first of which provides charts concerning the size of English armies and the numbers of Welshmen whom the English crown recruited constituted them. The second includes a brief list of important Welsh figures and short histories of them. A useful glossary is included which covers technical terms in both English and Welsh. A bibliography which includes both primary and secondary sources is appended, before a final index to finish the work off.

The author relies primarily on period English sources for his arguments, leaning on exchequer, treaty, and patent rolls, as well as auditors accounts. The body of secondary scholarship cited by Chapman is substantial, however all of it is in English. In the main body of text, Chapman includes a large number of footnotes allowing the reader to source his information as well as providing additional commentary.

In all, this work is a valuable one which provides much needed commentary on the role of the Welsh in the English war machine. The prose is approachable, and the information is clearly laid out, but it is also well sourced, making this a useful book for individuals of all experience levels.

#book review #review #art #history #medieval #middle ages #england #english

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autumnalwalker · 10 months

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Hi Sage

It's blorbsday! How tired are your ocs? Are any of them insomniacs? Do they ever get eight hours of sleep? (In this economy? In any economy?) Have they been Questing and therefore are rather bedraggled? Tell me.

Greetings. Thanks for the ask.

So, the literal first line of Empty Names is as follows:

The fact that she’d given her address to a stranger on the internet is probably an even greater testament to Lacuna’s lack of sleep for the past three days than the dark rings around her eyes.

And then another chapter opens with:

Lacuna’s second alarm of the morning - set to go off ten minutes after the first one - is beeping. She estimates it’s been doing that for at least five minutes now but hasn’t opened her eyes to check her phone yet.

And then that latter chapter ends with her getting so focused on a magic programming/mad science project she accidentally stays up until 5am. So, yeah, Lacuna does not have the healthiest relationship with sleep.

As for the rest of the Empty Names cast...

Eris: Generally does a good job of keeping a regular sleep schedule, maintaining adequate sleep hygiene, getting a full eight hours, exercising in the morning, all that healthy stuff they say you're supposed to do. Sure, occasionally she'll break that routine and stumble back to her apartment after midnight covered in blood to collapse into bed with her clothes on or stay up for twenty-four hours straight to volunteer overnight helping out at a werewolf sanctuary, but she's got the baseline energy levels to bounce back pretty quickly.

Ashan: Maintaining disciplined sleeping habits to keep the mind sharp and clear was part of his wizard training. As was learning to fall asleep basically anywhere, but that's also a lot easier when you can conjure up a climate-controlled privacy field and sleep while levitating.

Sullivan: Despite outward appearances, he barely even counts as physically/biologically human anymore and one of his more noticeable tells to that effect is that he no longer requires nor is capable of sleep. Despite having been this way for close to a decade or so, he's still not entirely used to it and spends most of his nights meditatively wandering the dark and labyrinthine hallways of the manor his dearly departed wife left him as the closest substitute to sleep he can manage. Said wife is the one who made him this way.

Road: Physically requires less sleep than most people, but even then frequently pushes the limit of what is healthy for them to go without. They claim it's because there's just so much that constantly needs their attention, but really it's mostly because they're low-key afraid to. They're an easily-woken light sleeper who has a hard time falling asleep on their own, and when they do manage to sleep it's often plagued by bad dreams.

Meanwhile over in The Archivist's Journal (@thearchivistsjournal), there are more than a few entries where the titular Archivist is writing in the titular journal for the express reason that writing typically helps with struggles to get to sleep. Some days, or even weeks, are pretty good, and others are really bad. The clear-and-lucid-as-waking-life nightmares of being trapped wandering endless, shifting Catacombs, being forced deeper with every dream and waking up tired despite having slept for eight to ten hours that happen every full and new moon don't much help matters.

Cass, Lin, Maiko, and Vernon by contrast all have pretty healthy, regular, eight-hours-a-night sleeping habits. Well, maybe more like six or seven hours for Maiko from paranoid sleeping alone in the woods with minimal shelter her whole life. And on the occasions when Lin doesn't sleep well, she really doesn't sleep well.

And I suppose special mention to Cass's mom who's had random bouts of inexplicable insomnia staying up for days at a time and then sleeping for a full day for her whole life. No one knows what's up with that.

#writeblr #my writing #writers on tumblr #ask #answered asks #blorbo blursday #blorbsday

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jeannereames · 2 years

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Hi Dr. Reames, sorry to disturb you. I remember somewhere you mentioned how many times ATG was associated with each gods and heroes in the ancient sources ?But I can't find the blog now. If my memory is correct and you still have such records, could you please send me a link to it? Thank you so much!

Besides, when I read curtius 'Beside her sat one of her granddaughters, mourning for the recent loss of Hephaestion, whom she had married, and in the general sorrow was renewing her own reasons for grief. But Sisigambis alone felt the misfortune that had befallen all her family.....', I wonder if there is anything reliable in this account, does it try to imply that Hephaestion might have been nice to this girl?

Answering the second question first, he probably was nice enough to her. She was a royal princess, and her grandmother was fond of Alexander. And he himself seems to have been in favor of Alexander’s policy of integrating Persians, so he wouldn’t have been predisposed to treat her badly. And she’d have been inclined to make him happy, as her life more or less depending on it. Which brings me to the rest of the story.

The details are likely an exercise in ancient Roman “creative non-fiction.” Curtius does that a lot, embellishing on the historical record, which itself was embellished. So we shouldn’t give a lot of attention to the details, but Curtius was almost certainly correct in the general sorrow-fear these women felt when Alexander died. He’d been their protector. Without him, they’d have no idea about their futures. What Curtius gives to Sisygambus was almost certainly the alarm of every woman in Alexander’s harem: what will become of us now? That would probably generate a lot of tears, and also, perhaps, some cut-throat plans—as we see with Roxana.

The harem was, itself, a political hothouse, especially for those closest to the top. For the novels, I’ve given some thought to how I’ll be portraying the women/girls in the novels, just as I did to the sisters and wives in the women’s rooms in Macedonia.

Returning to your first question, I can find a bunch on Achilles in blogs [asks + Achilles] but none with exact numbers. BUT I do have the original article itself, of course, so below is my footnote that lays it all out:

Footnote 14 from “Philip’s and Alexander’s Use of Religious Cult in Our Extant Sources”:

In Plutarch, Herakles is referenced only twice in relation to Alexander, Achilles three times and Dionysos three. Justin, although shorter, references Herakles four times, Achilles two, and Dionysos only once. Diodoros mentions Herakles six times, Achilles three, and Dionysos two. Predictably, Curtius and Arrian have more. Curtius references Herakles nine times, Achilles once, and Dionysos seven, but Curtius is missing the first two chapters, which would have included the Troy visit, and has a large lacuna including the death of Hephaistion, both of which would likely have involved references to Achilles, and probably more of Herakles as well. Arrian shows the same disproportion: Herakles has twelve mentions, Achilles four, and Dionysos seven.

No, I’m not sure yet when this Companion is coming out, but probably in 2024. Edward Anson is the editor, and the title will be Brill's Companion to the Campaigns of Philip II and Alexander the Great.

#asks #Hephaistion #Hephaestion #Drypetis #Death of Alexander the Great #Alexander the Great #Alexander's heroes #Achilles #Herakles #Hercules #Dionysos #Dionysus #Emulation of mythical heroes #Classics #tagamemnon

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theomisu · 2 years

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What sort of cultural stuff does each of the species have going on? Thanks!!

Hmm I think, maybe, this is a little spoilery?

You’ll learn some things that are written below in Chapter 2 and 3. The story will naturally take you to all four of the supernatural cities still standing. Chapter 3 will be with the Astraeus where you will be joining in on a festival, Chapter 4 with the Merfok, find out more about the Salamanders in Chapter 5 (but probably won’t be going underground until part II) and the Sylphs in Chapter 8.

Now, I don't really mind spoilers in general, so here's a preview of the cultural setting for the main 4 groups, below the cut for spoilers, if anyone else minds them:

Sylphs - as a general theme, think 1800 royalty but with warrior angels

The sylphs were initially nomads before their current monarchy started. They lived simple day to day lives and were scattered all across Zaellor (their world) in small packs, usually families. They were considered among the weakest creatures. They had no name of their own and were usually lumped together with the fairies, despite the more obvious differences (feathered wings, nomadic lifestyle and lack of magic dust).

Everything changed when Syl sacrificed himself to unite all the nomads under one rule, granting one of them the power to control gravity. The flying city of Mardaar was born and the sylph nation with it.

Once they took roots, they built grand buildings and took on a lavish lifestyle, but never lost their more practical spirit. The Ruler is the supreme power figure, an embodiment of their martyr God, and their word is absolute in both political and military matters. They can also choose who the power will pass onto, not being constrained by bloodline.

Syllalia is their biggest festival, celebrating their martyr-like figure turned God, Syl. It is a celebration of self-indulgence and gift-giving, a practice to distance themselves from the simple life of their ancestors.

Salamanders - think Catholic church ran by giant dwarves of Moria

The salamanders are governed by a highly religious faction. Their system creates four classes: the ruling group, the nobility, the working class and the pariahs.

The doctrine starts from their creation myth, from the first four Salamanders that ruled over Zaellor. It is said that one of the four great rules, Cahanti, made a deal with Lacuna - the malevolent force at the core of the planet - dooming her people to go blind and mad, a trait still seen today in the golden-yellow eyes of some salamanders. Queen Thisaya stopped the affliction from spreading to the others and was named absolute ruler over the salamander people. Her blood was thought to possess divine powers and in time her descendants formed a ruling Council rather than having just one king.

The four casts were created in time, after the images of the three great salamanders and Cahanti, and influenced by the Council.

Only half of the Salamander city of Krenn'laris was transported to Earth, the majority of the working class being lost in the Event, forcing the nobility to take on more menial jobs.

Most of their traditions and celebrations focus on Thisaya and her achievements, with some minor holidays popping in for her descendants each year. There’s a yearly stage play that portrays the fight between Thisaya and Cahanti.

Merfolk - think GTA and industrial/cyber revolution

The Merfolk were the supernatural group most affected by the Calamity Event. The entire city of Talisant was at the bottom of the ocean before they were brought to Earth. So the merfolk found themselves on land, with very little access to their powers. To top things up, their entire royal family was lost somewhere in the transition.

New world, new terrain, no powers and no ruling class. The years immediately after the Event had been hard on them, with little time for keeping up with traditions and barely making ends meet. They were the first to surrender and plead for help to the humans. Many parts of the city had been rebuilt to sustain life outside of the water (simple things like stairs, elevators and windows that had no use before). There are now tourist resorts and fully human residences as well as mixed neighborhoods where supernaturals from all around Earth came for refuge.

The Merfolk never were particularly religious or superstitious. They used to live a quiet life in their habitat, cherishing the underwater currents that brought food more than any hero or god. There is a clash between the older generation that still remembers the life they had underwater and the youngsters that got a second chance at life only with the help of the humans.

They have adopted many human holidays, Halloween and Obon being some of the more popular.

They are currently run by a figurehead president put in place by the CCO, but it is widely known that the Merfolk mob is also pulling strings.

Astraeus - think high elves and divination

They are ruled by the Oracle, a supernatural being that dies and is reborn again within their numbers. They answer to, what they would call, an universal God of Creation that spawned all beings and that uses the Oracle as a messenger, through the prophecies sent to them.

They are thought to be both extinct and the cause of a different world shattering event that happened some thousand years prior.

They are a knowledge seeking people. A rite of passage to maturity is setting off into the world and returning a piece of new information to be added to the tomes. The practice had stopped when they went into hiding, but something changed when they were transported on Earth.

Aim’rian - The city of a thousand Stars - is a spiraling tower made entirely of light-catching crystals, where all the Astraeus reside. It was considered a wonder by supernaturals all around Zaellor.

Hope this answers your question. Let me know if you meant something else entirely, I tend to overthink @_@

#thank you so much ♥#calamity control #calamity control if #anon asks #calamity control lore #twine wip #twine game #did I come up with some of these names on the spot?#sure did #how do people name things???#i hate naming stuff...#the sylphs #the salamanders #the merfolk #the astraeus

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ilguna · 3 years

Text

Lacuna - Chapters 1-4 (f.o)

summary: they say the odds tend to favor those who need them. well, they were wrong.

warnings; swearing.

wc; 14.8k

NOTES; I give reader a last name to fit the world.

–

-- CHAPTER ONE --

The sound of screaming jolts you awake, enough to get your heart racing, and the grogginess of sleep is completely erased from your mind. Your eyes search the room quickly, looking for some sort of intruder, until you realize it’s just your sister again. Awake before the rest of the house, uncomfortable because of the silence, and probably starving.

You’re not sure how it’s possible to have the same exact reaction every single time she does it. But your brain thinks the same thing without fail, that someone has just broken into the house, and you’re about to get murdered. It’s ridiculous for a couple of reasons. The first, is that they would most likely not go for the back room first. And the second is that no one gets murdered here.

If anything, everyone huddles up together, protecting each other the best they can. To turn against someone else would be ridiculous. There is no reason for murder, when two of you get picked off every single year. If anything, you should be teaming up together to get it stopped. But that would cost thousands of lives, once again.

With a yawn, you push yourself off of the bed, dragging your feet when it comes to taking care of your sister. The second you’re in sight, she seems to calm down a little bit, holding her arms up to you. You scoop her up, holding her against your chest as you shush her slightly, bouncing your steps a little more as you head into the kitchen.

No one else is home except the two of you. Reed and Mox are most likely on a boat in the middle of the water, fishing to fill today’s quota. They’ll be saving a couple for you guys later tonight, and if they come back with enough, you’re sure they’ll send you to the square to trade for bread, and anything else you’ll need for today.

You can take a guess already. It’ll be soaps and shampoos, and if there isn’t a nice enough outfit that you can find in your mom’s old wardrobe, then you will have to go out to buy a hand-me-down from the square. Alyssum--your sister--will most likely fit in to her outfit from last year, she hasn’t grown much since then. Your brothers stopped growing a couple of years ago, and they fit into your fathers pants and shirts just fine.

As you set your sister up on the floor with a little bit of soft, fresh bread, you head to your parents room. Holding your breath when you open the door, because you only come in here once a year. This will be the one time you permit yourself to look over it again. You don't’ stay for very long though, you don’t want to kneel and cry on the floor like you did two years ago. You’re terrified of the never ending onslaught of tears again.

Reed doesn’t have the same reaction as you and Mox do when you come into the room. Reed has to be the strongest, in his mind. He doesn’t want to watch as his younger siblings collapse and crumble beneath him. He lets you guys use him as a platform, and only sometimes do you get to return the favor.

You open the creaky wooden door, looking over the dresses. A frown comes over your face when you realize that last years had hardly fit. And if last year was a bust, then that means that all the others won’t be big enough either, right?

Even though you’re sure that it’ll be impossible for you to fit into any of them again this year, you pick out the biggest one. It’s the closest to the end, one you haven’t worn before because it was too big beforehand. How the tables have turn.

After you lay it over your arm, you shut the wardrobe doors and leave the room. After, you quickly lay the dress on the desk in the corner of the room. Something your father used to sit at every night as he wrote up things for the peacekeepers to send. While you’re in your room, you open up the shutters to see that the sun is higher than you thought. You’d think it to be early morning, the sky not even turning blue yet.

Quickly, you place your black flats beneath the dress, and you also lay out Alyssum’s baby clothes. By the time you’ve returned to the living room, Alyssum is finished with the bread. She chews on her favorite stuffed animal, staring off into space. Not a single care in the world.

Just as you’re deciding to change Alyssum and maybe start up the first bath of many that will happen, the door swings open. Mox is the first to appear in the doorway, hauling the cooler in his arms. When he sees you standing by the couch, he offers you a tight smile, before heading straight for the fridge.

On the other hand, Reed has a basket of bread. You’ll take a bet right now, that Mox had lost whatever game they were playing on the boat, making him carry the heavy cooler, while Reed got the lightest thing in the world. Reed shuts the door behind with his foot, and then he shuffles over to the counter, clearing the cutting board and knife into the sink to make room, before he sets it down.

“I’ve fed her.” you tell him, “And I’ve picked out her outfit and everything. Do I have to run down to the square for anything? Soaps?”

Mox groans out a complaint as he struggles to lift the cooler again. Reed chuckles, smirking at him, before he turns to you, “No, I got them early this morning before anyone else could. Go ahead and take a bath first, I have to help him out.”

“Shut up.” Mox shoots at him, glaring.

You leave the room quietly, picking up the dress from the room, and whatever you’ll be wearing underneath. The bath is a blur as you scrub the salt scent from your skin. It isn’t until you’re nearly done, when you realize that the soap is going to definitely cover it, with the sickeningly sweet smell that comes from it.

You take your time to dry your hair, getting dressed slowly to ensure that you don’t accidentally rip the dress, only to find out that it slips on freely. It’s not tight on you as you expected, you could run and nothing would tear. Once you leave the bathroom, you take your towel and brush with you, going to sit in your own room while you do your hair.

Just as you’ve gotten your hair to stay in place, with it being pulled back as best as possible so that you can see, Reed hands Alyssum off to you to dry off a little more and get dressed. It’s too easy for her, she doesn’t have much hair, you gather it into a tiny ponytail that makes a palm tree on the top of her head. For a cute effect, you add a bow to it.

Reed and Mox are ready faster than you are. However, just because they’re fast, doesn’t mean that they’re not dragging their feet when it comes to leaving the house. The second you leave, it’s straight for the stage, where you’ll watch this years unfortunate tributes get reaped for the hunger games.

You could say a million bad things about the Capitol, and the games. But instead, you’ll keep it quiet this year. Because if there’s anything you don’t need right now, it’s being pulled in for the games. Your brothers can’t handle another death in the family, you know it.

Your mom had done enough damage on everyone, but your father was still around long enough to stay strong. Those are the only times you remember Reed still being so soft. Your mom had died giving birth to Alyssum, and no one had realized that she was bleeding to death until it was too late. Thankfully, you were too young, not allowed to be in the room until you were forced to say goodbye, before you were whisked away again. The next time you saw her after that was in the casket.

Your dad had done remarkably well when it came to keeping up with work, and juggling you and Alyssum. Mox and Reed were a year shy of not being in the reapings anymore, so they knew they would have to work harder, no matter what it took or sacrificed.

All that preparation had done Reed good, you suppose. Because only a few months later he would die in a fishing accident. Taking out District Four’s best fishers. For a while, there was talk that it was done on purpose, and the peacekeepers were tired of having to deal with every single person on that boat. But that wouldn’t add up correctly, because your dad was almost always a favorite of the peacekeepers, even the new ones.

In your opinion, your family has gone through enough. Too many have died, and honestly, you all were orphaned for a while, but under the radar. The second that Reed had turned eighteen, he immediately filed to be seen as the parent for all of you. Which stopped the community home from trying to snatch you up.

You guys stop to have the quick breakfast that was somehow skipped over by accident. Consisting of mostly bread, until Reed decides that it doesn’t hurt to have a little bit of fish too. When you’re all finished, the table is cleaned, and then you really have to leave the house.

The walk to the stage is mostly quiet. Reed will play around with Alyssum occasionally, but she mostly stares at the people around you. She hasn’t seen this many people gather together before, it’s mainly just you three, and then the neighbor kids. She wasn’t old enough last year to fully realize what was going on around her. Curious, for sure, but not really caring.

On the way, you manage to catch sight of one of your friends. The second that she turns her head in your direction, you wave. It takes her a moment to realize who you are because of the distance, but soon enough she buddies up next to you.

“Hey, pretty dress.” you tell her, and she beams a little bit.

“Thanks! That one’s new on you, did last year not fit?” she asks, she knows that this is your mothers dress no doubt, but she doesn’t bring it up. Instead, she alludes to it.

“It was tight enough last year, so I was sure it would rip by the seams this year. I found this one at the end.” you tell her, and she nods lightly.

The both of you go on like that, going back and forth talking about what you had done today. It isn’t much, but it’s enough to fill the silence, and suppress the sickness that’s beginning to rise in your stomach, like it does every year. You’d call it intuition if it weren’t so common.

She’s a year younger than you, so she has to move to her age group, fourteen. While you on the other hand, move to be in fifteen. As everyone slowly files in to the sections, you look to find Reed and Mox again, to see that they’re standing off to the side. Alyssum is on Reed’s shoulders, making him very easy to spot. He holds onto her hands tightly, not risking the chance of her falling. With them is one of the neighbor’s sons, Caspian.

Soon, you turn back to look at the stage again to see that the governor is helping Mags up onto the stage. She’s the only victor of this district, and she’ll be the only help to anyone going into the arena. You really wish that the main career districts would stop being so prestigious, and allow others to win too. That they’d stop training their kids illegally and actually have a sliver of a chance like the rest of you.

They must have so many of their victor houses filled, that they’re always creating more. One new one every year, just in case they win again, which is hardly ever not the case. Instead of a single dozen, they must have four or five.

Soon, the shuffling of feet has stopped, and the anthem plays. You watch for the fifteenth time as they play the same video. Listen as the same speech is given. That this is what the districts have earned, and being descendants from the originals that had thrown the revolution, you’ve automatically been given the same burden. Being alive is simply offensive to the Capitol.

And then the governor closes his speech, and your districts Capitol representative heads up to the microphone. Elysia Fardust--you really can’t believe that they have ridiculous names like that, as if the body modifications weren’t enough--is looking a lot more humble this year. Last year she had outdone everyone, wanting at least one year in the spotlight, you guess.

She wears a blonde wig, you can tell by the way it shines in the sun, reflecting the light off of it. They could have done their very best with it, trying to make it look realistic, and it still would have turned out looking cheap. Her theme this year seems to be blue and gold, since that’s what the frilly dress she wears is made up of. On her feet is also a pair of gold heels. They look like they would be trouble to walk in, but she moves around just fine. Around her wrists are bracelets that jangle and shine the light back into your eyes at the wrong angle.

There’s a huge smile on her face as she stands tall, “Good afternoon, citizens of District Four.” Unlike other representatives you’ve had, her accent doesn’t stand out as much, it’s a subtle thing, almost as if she’s ashamed of it, “Happy Hunger Games.”

You roll your eyes involuntarily, letting them land on the ground as you shake your head softly. Because only to the Capitol people, is this entire event amusing. Watching others fight to the death so that one may be the winner, win his life back. While everyone back home is forced to watch it in agony. A few will take bets, as their hopes for winners sink each year when all they get are dead bodies in the end.

“We’ll start with the ladies.” she chirps, and you feel the swarm of butterflies first, and then the disgust of her tone crushes all of them at once. Except for a few, which cause more harm than good, as they fly around.

You can’t help but to turn to look at Reed and Mox, hoping that they can see where you’re standing. And miraculously, you’re able to catch Reed looking at you at the same time. Mox catches on eventually and looks over too. He also mouths for you to breathe.

The faint clinking of rings makes you look towards the stage again to see her pulling out the white paper slip. Butterflies swarm, and the only thing you can relate this feeling back to, is when you have those rare presentations in school. The type that means a lot on who you are, and the grade you recieve.

There’s a pain in your chest as you hold your breath to make all those butterflies stop flying and die from the lack of air. You’re not the only one though, you can feel every single girl that’s eligible to be put in the games, collectively hold their own breaths. Eyes wide and staring just like you are, hoping and praying that it’s not going to be you.

Elysia takes her time, unfolding the paper. She reads it to herself first it seems, before a wide smile spreads over her face, and she looks out to you girls, “Our girl tribute is (Y/n) Gallows.”

-- CHAPTER TWO --

You feel lifeless. As the blood drains from your face. As the wind leaves your lungs. As all the strength you had minutes ago suddenly diminishes. Standing is a hard thing to do. You feel like you should collapse, head aimed toward the sky as you stare. Leaving people to wonder if it’s the shock, or if it’s refusal to go up to the stage.

All you can do now is stare straight ahead at the stage. Feeling all the eyes bore on the back of your head. They’re all giving you away, and if they’d just look somewhere else, then they would have absolutely no clue that it was your name that was called. Elysia wouldn’t be able to spot you so easily like she is now, and the peacekeepers wouldn’t have started their march.

You swallow down the vomit, gritting your teeth as you clench your fists tightly at your sides. Robotically, you turn your body, being gentle on your feet as if you’ll fly into the air if you’re light enough. On the way to the walkway, you get a clear look at Reed and Mox and regret it immediately. You didn’t need to look at them, not yet.

Reed’s face is hard, straight and angry. He looks like one of those tributes that get thrown in once in a while. The type that fight really hard and nearly win every single year. Until some brat career district comes around and kills them off. Reed’s lips are pressed in a thin line, and his eyes stare into yours.

Mox isn’t as stoic. His eyes are glossy, you can see them from where you’re standing. You can also see how red and blotchy his face is getting. He’s already been crying, the tears must have burst right after your name had been called. But you don’t remember hearing the sound of him crying.

You could have easily missed it while your brain threw you in a surprised mindset. It would have been easy to miss the sounds of everyone around you--although you’re sure that there wasn’t much noise in the first place--as you were suddenly clouded by your thoughts. Different escape plans had come to mind, but all of those would have been foolish. You would be laughed at later on for being so cowardly.

When you make it to the walkway, you clear your face as best as you can, standing tall and squaring your shoulders. You force yourself to look tough, even though every single part of you is screaming. As long as you don’t look vulnerable on the outside, you’ll be fine.

Elysia’s eyes follow you up the steps, taking your hand when you’re within length, and stopping you in front of the girls bowl. From here, you can see everyone, especially your brothers who aren’t looked so hot now. They must be envisioning it now, seeing you in the games. They must be seeing all of the scenarios, knowing that you’ll end up in at least one of them.

Elysia doesn’t waste any time, moving on to the boys bowl. She takes her time like she did the first time, reaching for one of the top ones, instead of digging her hand in the bowl like she did before. Had she plucked one from the top, you wouldn’t be where you are.

Suddenly, you’re glad that Reed and Mox are too old to be placed in the games. Too old to volunteer over some random boy that will be picked. They need to be here for Alyssum, and you know that very well. You’re sure that if it were possible, Reed would most definitely volunteer, so that he would be able to protect you in the games the entire time.

Mox wouldn’t be able to stomach it, being in the arena. He would last only so far, because he can’t kill people. He can hardly stand fish being killed so that you guys can live every single day. So that you can provide for the Capitol. Killing people is absolutely out of the question. But Reed would do it if he could. He’d do it for you because he knows that’s what an older sibling is supposed to do. Protect the younger ones.

Elysia unfolds the second paper, “Finnick Odair.”

You have to stop yourself from opening your mouth when your eyes land on him. And you know that you’re utterly screwed, because this is not an older boy that would take pity on you and hopefully keep you around in the arena because you’re from home. No, this is Finnick, fourteen, handsome, a year younger than you.

You will be expected to look over him, since you’re the older one now. The only experience you have when it comes to fourteen year-olds is the girl that you’re friends with. Who is staring at you with big eyes still, like she can’t believe she was just talking to you, and now you’re going to be sent into the games. She’s also thinking of all the possibilities.

Finnick comes down the aisle with the same hard look on his face that you had. Elysia doesn’t hold her hand out for him. Instead, she lets him walk in front of his bowl, and she turns to everyone that’s waiting below.

“May the odds be ever in your favor.” she says again, the first time was before it had started, “You can shake hands, now.”

She backs up, allowing you to get a look at Finnick.

You’ve seen him around school, and you’ve talked to him plenty of times. He’s smart, he’s as knowledgeable with knots and fishing as you are. He’ll be a good swimmer, and he’ll know a few plants that are edible. And if he prefers spears rather than the actual fishing pole, then he’ll be able to throw well too.

There’s got to be some hidden skills in there. But all you know for the most part, is that you’re even on some playing fields. You’re coming from the same district, you’re going to have the same skills. It won’t be like people coming from the main career districts, because they have years of training under their belt with so many things. It won’t be like the outsider districts like ten, eleven and twelve.

You’d consider Finnick a friend at this exact moment, with all of the times you have talked and all of the things you know about him. He’s your friend, and you hope that he considers you the same. Because in the arena, you’ll hope that he’ll consider an alliance. He’s from home, he’ll share the same memories, and he’ll make you feel safe again.

You take Finnick’s hand in yours, shaking it a couple of times.

And then, you’re ushered off of the stage. You and Finnick are separated from each other as you’re guided and then locked into a room. Here, you pace the room back and forth, because it’s beginning to sink in. You’re going to be sent in an arena with twenty-three other teens your age, and you’re going to be forced to kill them. You’re going to have to survive the best you can, no matter how hard that is.

The door opens minutes later, and you look up to see your three siblings. You only have a couple of minutes to talk to them, says the peacekeeper. Then he shuts the door, and you’re engulfed in arms.

“Remember all the knots I taught you,” Reed tells you immediately, “How to prepare the fish properly, cook it thoroughly. Boil the water at least before you drink out of it. If they have iodine then that’s what you need to put in it, only a few drops.”

Between gasps of air, Mox begins to give his input, “If you can, make a spear. It doesn’t have to be fancy, just sturdy enough to throw. A strong stick, and sharpen it to a tip with a sharp rock.”

You suddenly know why they’ve been teaching you this information all these years. And you know why your dad did the same to them when the time came. It’s because if this had happened, you would be very good at all of the things that they had taught you over the years. There would be no time for hesitation inside of the arena, and there would be no possibility of that if you were so good at everything that would be used inside of there.

They’ve been preparing you this entire time.

Alyssum reaches for you, and Reed passes her over. You bounce her in your arms lightly, hugging her to your chest as you press a kiss to her forehead. This might be the last time you get to hold her. The last fuzzy memory she will have of you.

Mox must remember the same thing at the same time you do, because his arms swarm you again, and Reed follows. You stand there quietly for a long moment.

“Win, (Y/n).” Reed tells you, “Do everything you can to win. Don’t fall to the obvious things, you know how well you are. Don’t mess it up in there.”

“I know.” you whisper, and just before the doors open, Reed presents you with a freshly polished ring.

It takes you a moment before you recognize it, and that’s when your eyes go wide. It’s your mom’s engagement ring. Your mother hadn’t wanted something big on her finger, and so your dad got her something small. Something that represented the district, while also being a very beautiful ring.

It’s a silver ring, with one lone wave in the middle of it. You take it in your fingers, turning it over for a moment before you slide it on your ring finger with shaky hands. By the time you’ve looked up to thank him, there’s tears gushing down the sides of your cheeks.

Then, the door opens and Reed and Mox are scrambling to give you the last bit of affection they can afford. You kiss Alyssum one last time, before Reed carefully takes her from you. And the last thing you see are a fresh wave of tears on Mox’s face. The door shuts heavily after that, and you have to force yourself to sit down, as you wrap your arms around yourself.

You have a chance, you know that. There’s a chance that you will make it out of this, and you have to hold onto that. You can’t accept defeat just yet, because that’ll ruin your entire mindset. You’ll go into the games thinking you’re going to die, and it’ll take away all your fight. You’ll be weak, useless and depressed. Even the most incompetent fighter will be able to take you.

The doors open again, taking you by surprise as you look up to see Capsian. You and him don’t talk much. In fact, you two hardly get along because he’s always picking on you, and Reed won’t tell him to knock it off. You eventually started a grudge on him, and the resentment just grew from there on.

“I’ll take care of your brothers,” he tells you, “I’ll stay with them to help out around the house. My entire family wishes you good luck in the games.”

“Thank you,” you say, curling up on the couch, he takes this as an invitation to sit on the other end.

“You’ll be good at the games, I can feel it.” he tells you, nodding to himself as he stares out the window, “We’ll be cheering you on from here.”

You don’t say anything to this, and the rest of his few minutes is spent in silence. He wishes you luck once more, before he disappears out the doors, and then just like that, you’re left alone again. It isn’t for long, as the peacekeepers escort you to the train station, where you see your brothers standing there for a final time, since they have to see you off, no matter what happens.

You know that you’ll be on camera again here, and so you stop to stare off at the district. Then, you raise your hand to wave, eyebrows drawn together as you’re thinking.

Farewell District Four, you think, it’s been fun.

The second after you’ve stepped inside, the doors shut behind you. The train starts moving, and you can feel the shift in the air. You don’t stumble like Finnick, who has to put his hand on the wall to get a hold of himself again.

You stare at Finnick for a moment, unsure of how to approach this. Because you want to have him as a friend now, and have his back for as long as it will last. Which will hopefully be up until you’re bet against each other.

“Allies?” you ask hopefully, “Until we have to kill each other?”

“You’re start awfully early, don’t you think?” he doesn’t answer you initially, but he doesn’t waste too much time, “Yes, until we have to kill each other.”

“Glad to see you two are friendly,” Elysia says, interrupting us, “Your rooms are ready for you.”

“Thanks,” you mutter, beginning to walk towards yours, but Finnick doesn’t let you go so easily.

“You want to stick together?”

The last time you’ve talked to Finnick had to be at least a couple of weeks ago. When you have the time, it’s normally clipped, little things. Passing conversations, because there’s never enough time to have full ones. It’s during school, and hardly after unless you accidentally run into him in the square or something.

You and Finnick spend your time doing different things, sometimes. You have been trained in all things with water, with the best of Reed’s knowledge with only Mox to back him up on things. You’ve been tying and retying knots. Throwing spears, and harvesting water plants.

It’s required that Finnick do the same, but he has his own preferences. You see him with his favorite trident all the time, playing around with it. There was only one time you had seen him throw it, and when it had come out of the water, five different fish were speared. You’re not sure about the plants, but he has to know how to cook at least. And he has to know his fair share of knot tying, but you’re not sure what he knows.

Reed tried to cover every single one that he had heard of, and even went as far as to seek out the elderly in District Four to learn how they do things too. What they remember from the times when they had to fish for the Capitol. And then he would take that information, come home and teach it all to you. You weren’t expected to know all of it, but to absorb most of it.

While Finnick probably didn’t have to deal with that almost every night. You partially know this, because you’ve seen him around with the girls in his class. Finnick looks old for his age, which means that he’s growing into his face. He’s more attractive than all the boys in your grade, at least.

The sponsors will love him, and he has to know that somewhat.

“What do you mean?” you ask.

“At the training, and stuff like that.” So, he means besides the arena.

“I don’t see why not.” you tell him, stopping in front of your room, your fingers find the ring and you fidget with it slightly, not used to the feeling on your finger, “Wake me for supper?”

He nods, giving you a big smile before he goes to his own room. You walk inside, listening as the doors shut behind you. The second that it’s gone, you head for the bathroom, sliding off the ring and placing it somewhere safe on the counter. Just for an extra measure, you pull up the tab that blocks water, so it doesn’t fall in and go down the drain.

You peel off your clothes, before hurrying inside of the shower that you started. You pull out your hair, letting the warm water wash over it. And while you’re standing there, you realize just how weak you feel from the entire thing. You can’t help but to sink into a sitting position, pulling your knees to your chest as you stare off at the wall for a while.

It must have been an hour you sat in there, just thinking about what it’s going to be like for the next couple of days. You’re not going to be thrown in just like that, you’re going to have to be presentable to the Capitol. You’re going to have to earn sponsors, and look like you have a chance at winning the games. You’re going to be forced to grit your teeth some more and smile. Tough it out until you’re finally inside of the arena.

You brush your hair carefully again, pulling it out of your face again. You look over the drawers carefully, and then you decide that a tank top and shorts will do you good. You want to feel comfortable here, for as long as possible. You want to hold on to what you would be doing at home. And then you grab the ring, putting it back on your finger.

Finnick comes to knock on your door, telling you that it’s time to eat. This is when you see he’s changed into something more comfortable too. He’s doing the same thing you are, because both of you are kids. You shouldn’t be thrown into the games, because you guys are so young. People under the age of sixteen hardly win.

Twelve and thirteen are the death years. If you get picked at those ages, you’re dead, there’s nothing you can do. Your body is so small, and you have no clue what to do still. They don’t have those years under their belt, they’re still struggling with the complicated knots.

Fourteen it gets better, but only by a little bit. No one has won at the age of fourteen, the youngest it gets is fifteen, and that year was a miracle. You weren’t able to see it, but Reed had explained it to you, that it was a particularly hard game. But the boy had won by waiting it out, and found a way to make the food and water last long. He killed only one person that year, and it was the girl that would have won

Sixteen and up, they have the best chances. They’re even better if they’re careers, which makes them deadly. If you run into anyone above the age of sixteen you can consider yourself dead, because they’ll overpower you so easily. The only chance you’ll have, is if there’s distance between the both of you and you have some sort of long-range weapon.

In the diner cart, sits Elysia and Mags. Mags watches as the both of you come into the room. Elysia looks over you guys with a squint, like she can’t believe that you’re dressed like that, and then she smoothes over, relaxing her face. Probably afraid of suddenly getting wrinkles.

The second you two have sat down, the food arrives. And it starts off slow, and all that Elysia has to tell you, is that more will keep coming, so eat slow and don’t take too much.

You follow just that, taking in all the different flavors, and how it’s so much more different than fish and bread every single night. With the occasion fish stew if the neighbor next door invited you over for dinner if you had brought her family a lot of fish that afternoon. Those nights, you’d think of them as feasts, because you would bring over more food to share and go around if you had it to spare. Eat like kings and queens, even if it was once a month.

After a certain amount of time, Finnick is tired of the silence, “Mags, when will you begin to mentor us?”

Your eyes drag across the table, landing on her. She struggles for a moment, and then she speaks. But the words are garbled, and it takes you a second to decipher them.

“Tomorrow morning.”

Finnick seems to understand as well as you have, so he nods and you guys go back to eating. Somewhere along the way, your stomach starts to feel upset, but you keep eating anyway. The more food you eat, the more pounds you’ll be able to tack on. More weight you’ll have on the others that will be thrown in the arena.

Once you’re done eating, Elysia brings you to the couch to watch the recap of the games. As much as you don’t want to watch all the children get reaped—and the rich kids volunteer—you know it’ll help you in the end. Let you size up the other tributes without being there in person. When you do finally get the chance tomorrow or the day after, you’ll see how tall they are and just how screwed you may be.

The girl that’s volunteered has clearly been training for a while. You watch as the muscles in her arms tense, and then release like she’s purposely flexing to show off her strength. She’s taller, and because of how strong she is, it’s made her look bigger. However, that doesn’t stop her from being pretty. You mark her in your mind immediately, Trink is her name, she’s from District One.

With her is a boy that isn’t as impressive, most boys who volunteer are normally tall and muscular, so nothing stands out about him. For girls, it’s just not the same. They’ve been training for just as long, but most of the time they look harmless. It isn’t until they’re thrown into the games, when they show off their true nature.

The boy’s name is Lennox, and he’s definitely taller than you, because he easily towers over the girl next to him. If you’re taking guesses on ages, then the girl is sixteen and he’s the same age or seventeen. He looks older, but then again, so does Finnick and he’s fourteen.

You look at Finnick to see how he’s accessing this entire thing too. He’s thinking, staring at the screen with a straight face, and then he laughs. When he turns to look to you, he shakes his head, “Careers.”

He says the word as if it explains what he’s laughing about, and you turn to see just in time that Trink and Lennox are grinning at each other. Arms locked around the other, as they turn to their district to wave. Clearly they’re proud of where they’ll be coming from.

Another district to watch out for is the following, two. Another part of the careers, people that you’ll be expected to team up with to hunt and kill.

The girl is taller than the boy this time, and she holds her chin high. There’s this sickening grin on her face as she bares her chest out for everyone to see. She wants them to know that she’s just as proud. Her name is Eytelle, probably stolen from one of the Capitol people. Since two is one of the favored ones as well.

The boy looks strong though, his name is Allio. In his hand he holds a stick that he’ll turn over in his hand every now and then. You have to focus to see what he’s doing exactly, but when you catch the glint of the silver, you realize it’s not a stick. He’s playing with a knife.

“Are we allowed…?” you don’t finish the question, but Elysia picks up.

“No.” she says gruffly, shaking her head, “It’s supposed to be for safety. What is he thinking?”

You’re not sure if she’s referring to the male Capitol representative, or Allio. Who’s still playing with that knife, and you watch as it gets faster in his hand. Like it’s building up a climax, and then it cuts.

Three is technology, and it looks like the program hurries that up a little bit. Certain districts are going to be expected to do better, this will be one of them. They make the technology, they’ll know how to build weapons. They should do exceedingly well, and if the careers think any one of them have potential, they’ll be called on.

Next, it flips to your district, and this is when it slows down again. You watch as Elysia perks up, and Finnick leans forward, suddenly entranced by the sight. Again, you relive the moment when Elysia calls your name, and you watch as a couple of seconds pass, before you’re heading down the aisle.

What felt like an eternity to you, was only a few seconds for them. You thought that you had frozen to your spot while you were debating the chances of you running. To them, they thought that it was you realizing it was your name that was called or something. You watch as the emotion is cleared from your face the second that you begin walking and realize that there’s cameras.

On that stage you felt so small, but on the camera, you can clearly see that it’s not too bad. You look better than what you thought you would. Four is also part of the careers, but it’s very shaky when it comes to volunteers--hence why you nor Finnick got one--and they hardly ever team up with the pack as far as you’re concerned.

Four is a rich district, so hardly anyone starves, but you’ve had your own months when you were struggling to get used to the fact that it was only you and your brothers that were capable of gathering food. Eventually, you got very good at it again, and there’s always food stocked in the fridge. But you’ve felt starvation. Despite all that, you look healthy and well-fed. There’s no doubt that a few districts are going to be jealous of that fact, especially in the poorer parts.

There’s not much you know, you’re not allowed to talk to neighboring districts at all. But you do know that most live in poverty. And things like starvation aren’t so uncommon.

You hadn’t noticed this before, but your hands somehow found their way behind you, in the time that you had found where you needed to stand, and when Elysia went to call the boys name. Subconsciously, you were also baring your chest, almost like you were proud.

You laugh when you watch Finnick walk down the walkway again. He looks to you, to see what’s funny, “Do you always walk like that?”

Elysia must have lost focus somewhere along the way, because she blinks quickly and focuses her eyes again. Then she also laughs, “You’re almost strutting.”

He grins, face turning a little red as he shakes his head, “Does it look tough enough?”

“You look ridiculous.” but he makes up for it when he stands at the stage right next to you. That’s when the two of you look like real competitors, with you standing tall, trying to make yourself look capable. And Finnick, not even trying and he still looks intimidating.

The rest pass like a blur. District Five fuels the power, so they’re only a little favored when it comes to things. They’re healthy looking too. District Six is transportation, no one stands out. Seven is lumber, which is when you start focusing again. When you see how big the two tributes are again. You mark them off too, Cass--the girl--and Mac.

Eight is textiles, nothing interesting. Nine is grain, which means that the poor districts are starting. Ten is livestock, eleven is agriculture, and twelve is mining coal. None of them had sprouted any interest in your mind, they don’t look threatening to you. In particular, twelve is the worst. With wobbly knees and pale faces, they look like they’re going to pass out at any minute.

And then just like that Elysia snaps the tv off, and you’re left sitting there in silence. She waits for a moment, before jumping up, “I suggest you two go off to bed, tomorrow will be very important.”

You and Finnick watch as she leaves the room, and right on cue, you two turn towards each other.

“The boy and girl from one are definitely problems,” you begin, and he nods, agreeing, “The girl is bigger than usual, which means that she’ll pose a bigger challenge.”

“They should be the first to go if we can make it possible.”

But how would that be? They’re one person of course, but they’re as good as three. They make up for the districts with people that don’t know what they’re doing, that get killed in the very beginning. In order to get them off, that would mean that a lot of people would have to band together.

“Are you suggesting we gather other tributes?” you ask, almost baffled by the idea. The more people, the more tension and fear that someone will betray the other.

“No, not too many.” he says, straightening his back, “Enough to help.”

He must see potential in the districts you saw nothing in, “We’ll have a better chance at looking them over later.”

He nods, he knows this already, “One, two and five.”

“Maybe three,” you get up from where you’re sitting, feeling the weight of today suddenly pressuring your shoulders.

“Maybe three,” he repeats, standing up too, “Off to bed so soon?”

You roll your eyes a little bit, “Yeah, I’m tired. Aren’t you?”

“I couldn’t feel more awake.”

-- CHAPTER THREE --

The morning comes before you’re ready for it. You drag your feet when it comes to taking a quick shower, and you throw on the nearest outfit that makes sense. It won’t really matter once you’re inside of the Capitol. You’ll be torn to pieces and then rebuilt at first chance.

You shouldn’t be too far off now. In fact, you probably should have made it there overnight, District Four is one of the closest districts to the Capitol. The only thing between you and them is District One. That one isn’t very surprising, they should be in the Capitol for a day now. The train goes so quickly, there wouldn’t be a reason to keep them from going.

You’ll probably barely have enough time to eat breakfast before you’re being shoveled off the train.

With that thought, you place the ring back onto your finger as you head out to the dining car, or room. Once you make it there, you see that you’re not the last. Finnick and Mags are still nowhere to be seen. However, Elysia sits at the table, a black coffee in hand as she looks over something in her hand. She pays you no attention when you sit at the table.

Immediately, you’re served food. Most of it you recognize because of the special days the district gets to eat well on. Not like you don’t get to eat things like this all the time, but the special foods like pancakes are something you haven’t seen in a while. You carefully eat like you did yesterday, trying not to overdo it, but also get a good amount of food in you.

Finnick comes in not too long after, taking his seat as he also starts to eat. However, he’s basically inhaling it, as if he hasn’t eaten in days. You’re impressed for a while, until he starts to turn a little green. Only then do you begin laughing at him, and he offers you a sheepish smile.

“Hungry?” you tease, and he rolls his eyes.

“I’ve been up for hours waiting to eat.” he tells you.

So he didn’t sleep last night, and that’s going to show. It took you a couple hours of tossing and turning, trying desperately to just get a little bit of time. Eventually, your body had decided that it might as well. You’re not in any danger just yet, you’re on a train to where the danger will start, but until then you’ll be fine.

“You need your sleep,” Elysia beats you to it, “But your stylists will cover it for now.”

Finnick offers her a small glance, and then he turns to you as if he’s disinterested with everything she has to say. It takes you a moment to realize that he’s not staring at you exactly, it’s past you. You turn to look over your shoulder to see that Mags is coming in now. She’s slow, and she looks like she’s struggling even with the cane she’s been provided with.

The peacekeepers take a step to help her, but you jump up before they have the chance. The mere thought of them touching her is disgusting to you. They work for the Capitol. They’re hugely ignorant and arrogant. They stand by and let all of this happen, hell, they’re coming from the districts around you.

Mags gives you a smile of appreciation, and Finnick helps out a little bit too when he sees how much trouble it is. With the help of you both, she gets seated and begins to eat. What you didn’t see before, is that she has a pad of paper, which she’s using one hand to write with, and the other to eat.

Her neat handwriting covers the paper, in a small paragraph. She turns the paper to you, and you tilt your head to read it. For a second, your mind blanks because it believes you’ve never read cursive before, but then it slowly comes back to you. You’re mouthing the words, picking up the paper as you take your time to hand it off to Finnick.

Lesson 1: Sponsors. Looking presentable for the Capitol people will be your greatest chance at survival. In order to do that, you’ll have to play up the act a little bit. Who are you?

It’s a simple question, but you find yourself struggling to answer. When you pass the paper back to her, she writes down one word beside it.

Personality?

Oh.

“What does it say?” Finnick asks, tilting his head, but he can’t see it anyway, he’s on the other end of the table.

“Personality.” you say for him, looking to Mags, “You mean like clever, smart…?”

She nods a little, and you look to the window for a moment, thinking. Allowing Finnick to get the chance to answer before you. What is your personality?

“Well, we have the same personality for the most part.” Finnick starts to answer for the both of you, “Smart with the basic district stuff, strong.”

“Deadly.” you add, and Mags raises her eyebrows a little bit, so you elaborate, “I throw spears, and I’ve seen Finnick with a trident.”

Finnick flushes for a second, but it clears out, “The trident is on special occasions. Mostly spears.”

You sit in silence, she writes, “What else?” you shake your head for a second, trying to come up with the adjectives, and then it comes back to you, “I’m considerate and kind. I have well manners.”

Mags writes all of this down, and you can see the word ‘humble’, and then she writes down damsel.

For a second, you’re not sure what you think of it, but you see it soon enough. Playing the innocent, damsel role and having everyone underestimate you. If they overlook you, then that gives you a better chance at winning.

“I can’t play that up,” you tell her, because you remember seeing yourself on the screen again, how you stood strong, “The reaping--”

Everyone looks like that, she writes, No one wants to be targeted.

And she’s right. All those people you had seen last night were trying to look bigger than they were. Except for the kids, when their shoulders would hunch in on themselves, trying to disappear. As much as possible, you’ll all try to look strong to be picked for an alliance. Those who aren’t picked are left to suffer.

This will throw Finnick’s entire plan off course. If you play damsel, then that means you have to downplay all your skills. Make it look like you’re incapable of winning. No sponsors, no alliance. The only person that’ll be able to save you is Mags and yourself. Maybe your brothers back home will somehow afford to send something your way.

You’ll have to purposely score low in training, to really lower the expectations. Mags might even go as far to tell your stylists not to do too well on yours and Finnick’s matching outfits.

Mags writes again while you’re thinking, and you read it so you can look to Finnick, “She wants to know about you.”

Finnick looks like he’s been waiting for his turn, “Strong, tall. Almost all the girls at school love me, so attractive--”

As he’s listing what he’s made of, you see one word for him. Cunning. He’s going to be playing up the tough arrogant act. He’ll be purposely showing off, he’ll be the one that gets all the sponsors. The alliance he proposed will be his, the careers will be tripping over their feet to get him in their pack.

Suddenly, you can’t help but to feel a little jealous, and detached.

Finnick is the boy, he’s going to be expected to win. But you have the age advantage, so they’ll also be looking to you to win. At least for some people, for others it doesn’t matter at all. Back home, they’ll be hoping that only one of you comes back in a casket.

“What’s my word?”

“Cunning,” you tell him quietly, invested in your food again. Your stomach has managed to settle, so you try to stuff it again, the more the better. You’re not sure when you’ll be able to eat after this.

The train car blacks out for a couple of seconds, and then light fills it again. Elysia looks over her shoulder, and then her face lights up as she hops up from her seat, “Home sweet home.”

You and Finnick move to the window, looking out it for a moment. Bright lights fill the car, blinding you. When you’ve blinked away the lights, you can see just how many Capitol people have come to the station to greet you two.

A sigh leaves you and for a moment you want to move away. And then, you realize that if you’re going for that damsel type, you have to look clueless. Like you’re always in a daze or something. So, you begin to wave the exact same moment Finnick does. And even through the thick walls of the train car, you can hear the roaring of their cheers.

Your stylist’s assistants are very nice, and they try to be as gentle as possible when it comes to what they have to do. For a minute they just stood and stared almost as if they had no clue on how to start with you. And then, they went straight to work. Removing every inch of hair from your body, besides what’s on your head.

Your hair is now silky smooth, and smells of strawberries. Your body is sore, but soft from how many bathes they’ve made you soak in. Your nails have been cleaned, filed and they have a very thin layer of nail polish on them. Only a little bit, because they were afraid that your main stylist would want to change that later.

Your eyebrows have been plucked, leaving you sculpted. They’ve applied some sort of teeth whitener, trying to make it scary white like theirs. A couple of times they’ve told you to straighten your back to stand tall. Only then did you realize that they were taking measurements, and after that you stood very still to allow the to.

“I think we’re all done now.” Cleo says, taking a step back to access you one last time, “Laurel is going to love you.”

She says nothing else, grabbing onto the arm of the girl that she was working with. You hadn’t heard much from her, she mostly listened as Cleo babbled on. With the occasion prompt to keep her talking. It’s almost as if she didn’t want to do any of it herself.

You rock on the table, back and forth as you stare at the wall ahead. Trying to imagine yourself winning the games. All that it’ll take to get to that point too. You find yourself regretting how you described yourself, even if you were being honest.

The door opens, revealing a very tall woman. Her hair is held back by a simple hairband, trying to keep it from her face, you’re guessing. It’s the same thing you do when you know it’ll be an irritating day. However, with these people it’s never irritating, they live in luxury. They’re all brightly colored and rich and they never have to worry about going hungry, ever.

She wears a white shirt, and a black blazer. Her pants are ironed nearly, and she has a pair of black heels on. The second she steps into the room, she slips them off though, only lowering her height just a little bit. She’s naturally tall it seems, and she seems proud of it. Not afraid to get bigger.

“I’m Laurel.” she introduces herself, “(Y/n), right?”

She has to know that it’s you, “Yeah.”

“Stand up for me?” she asks, and you slip off the table, standing in front of her. She walks around you, looking at your body, taking all of it into consideration. Laurel will stare for a moment, and then she’ll move your hair. She checks your nails to see that they’re very neat, and she seems pleased with that, “Take your robe.”

You reach over for it, slipping it on and then folding your arms over your chest anyway. You almost want to hunch in on yourself like you saw the kids doing at the reaping. But then, you remove your arms and make yourself stand a bit taller. Reminding yourself that you need to have more worth, carry that energy until it’s not carrying anymore. Until it is you.

“Mags tells me that you’re going for a more subtle look.” Laurel sits down on a nice couch, you make sure to tuck the robe beneath you as you sit, “Humble?”

You nod lightly, “I think she’s going for an underestimated look.”

“And do you feel the same?”

You dodge the question a little bit, “Finnick is going for cunning, isn’t he? I want to be presented the same way he does, but I wouldn’t mind if we did something along the lines of humble.”

She takes this into consideration, nodding lightly, “How would you feel about a two-piece? Almost like a bathing suit?”

You really hope you don’t end up in some skin-showing outfit, “Sure.”

She nods to this, looking pleased, “Blue, definitely blue.”

It’s only a couple of hours later, when you’re standing side-by-side with Finnick. He looks like he’s more in a bathing suit than you do. They’ve completely taken his shirt, and just put on a tunic almost, for his lower half. His designer has gotten him covered with vines, some drawn on and some of them real. It’s supposed to look like he’s came out of the water, like he’s been there for a while.

As a joke, you suggested dying him a blue-green because of how copper fades. His stylist considered it for a moment, even turning to Laurel to ask if it were possible to do it in an hour. But then Finnick piped up that he did not want to be a shade of green, and glared at you. It was all in good fun and he knows that. Didn’t stop him from jabbing you in your ribs when he had the chance.

You and Finnick are wearing nearly the same pair of leather sandals. Yours only goes up to your ankles, as his surrounds his calves, stopping just a little bit below the knee. He has that tunic around his waist, which wrinkles in all the right places, and it’s pinned to keep from falling.

Laurel had already built off of the bathing suit idea, deciding that you were worth more than just a pair of half-naked teenagers. She kept the aspect, but added a couple of things to it. On your upper body, your hair is curled to look more natural, going for the beachy-type but not exact. Macara, blue eyeshadow, the works go on your face. They’d outdone themselves with the white eyeliner, purposely tying to give you a goddess aspect, you guess?

You definitely know they were going Roman, even if it’s just a little bit.

They secured a bracelet around your upper arm, it’s a couple of waves. On your upper half of your body, you have a bra on almost. But the straps are thick, and the padding pushes it all up. It’s tight around the ripbs, keeping it from lifting off your chest, as they tried to show off some curves. It ends somewhere in the middle of your ribs.

And as for your waist, she decided for a high-waisted short bottom. Attached to it is a train almost. The flaps are attached to your left hip, giving it a sort-of leg slit. But the fabric is see-through, so it’s not much. The entire color scheme is a muted sea green. On your wrists are silver bracelets, on your neck is a lone shell necklace. Laurel had successfully acquired your ring, adding it to the outfit, even if the people from the stands won’t be able to see it exactly.

Laurel and Finnick’s stylist have you and Finnick walk around. Making small adjustments to everything so it flows better. In no time, you’re told to get onto your chariot with the blonde horses. Before you guys take off, Laurel makes one very last minute change.

She makes you wrap your arms around Finnick’s left one. Your right arm goes under, closest to his body. That one will stay permanently, and your left arm goes over, which will be the one you wave with and such.

“This is so exciting,” Finnick chirps, a smile already coming over his face, and then, “Oh!”

He reaches into a pocket that you didn’t know he had, and he pulls out a small sugar cube. You laugh, taking it with your left hand as you turn it over for a second. When you look over, the both of you share a look, before popping the sugar in your mouths at the same time.

The sweet taste takes over your tongue immediately, and you can’t help but grin. As you turn to look off to the ground, you watch as the audience turns to see the newcomers coming in.

The cheering gets louder, and then there’s pointing. You smile with your teeth, giving a wave, while also trying to think of embarrassing things. It takes a moment, but it all comes rushing back, and you find your face heating up very quickly.

“She’s blushing!” one of them yells, there’s a series of screams and ‘awing’ that follow after, and Finnick laughs.

“You play the act well.”

“For you it’s not even an act.” you say through clenched teeth, making sure the smile reaches your eyes.

Every single time you hear someone yell your name, you turn to look in that direction. If you’re going to get sponsors, you’ll want them to each every single bit of this shit up. You make surprised faces, cover your mouth, cower into Finnick and let him pretend to coax you out. The cheering only gets louder, until their attention is turned back to the newcomers.

When the chariot stops, you feel your face cooling considerably, and you sigh in relief, because it’s hard to keep thinking of embarrassing things. Once you bring up the effect again, it’s almost as if it’s useless. All those memories are so faded, that it’s hard to even think of them anymore. You hardly ever make bad mistakes like that.

You wait patiently as Snow makes his appearance and says his piece about everything. The anthem plays, you guys show up as you watch the flag. And then, there’s one final lap around the little circle, before you guys have vanished inside of the building.

There, Laurel and the other stylist are waiting for you. Laurel nods at you approvingly, probably glad that you still held on even though it wasn’t really necessary anymore. You slide off of the chariot with Finnick, stretching your arm. You cross them back over your chest, as you look around.

Soon enough, your prep teams are slowly distancing themselves, standing off to the side. Which offers a perfect opportunity for the others to see, measure you and Finnick up. You do the same, because the only other times you’ll see them is for training, and then later for the interviews. These moments where you over or underestimate them are crucial.

District one has a clear eye on you and Finnick.

“Trink and Lennox are staring.” You tell Finnick, trying not to look over, but he looks them dead on, almost like he doesn’t care.

He waves for a second, beckoning them over. You’re about to tell him that it’s a really bad idea, but they start their way over. So, you place the mask back on, and take a step back, allowing Finnick to do whatever it is he thought he wanted to do.

“Finnick,” He introduces himself, offering his hand.

Lennox looks to Trink for a moment, almost impressed as he takes Finnick’s hand, shaking it a couple of times, “Lennox.”

Of course, you know their names already, so it seems a little useless to introduce yourselves. But then it dawns on you, that they probably don’t know your names.

You make a feeble attempt to do the same, “I’m (Y/n).”

“Oh, we know.” Trink’s smile transforms into a smirk, “Gallows, huh? Like getting hung from the gallows…”

You hate her already.

You laugh lightly, trying to bring the smile to your eyes again, “I guess! I never made that connection before! It’s only fitting now that I’m in the games, huh? Do you think I have a chance?”

What if you play damsel until it comes to the private session with the gamemakers. What if you show off your skills then, score high, and then see what happens to the tributes around you. See if their sudden interest sparks and they want you on their side after all.

You wonder how Reed would feel about you teaming up with the careers. If he would be telling you to steer away from them, because they’re hostile, and vile and sometimes a little messed up in the head from all that training at a young age. It makes them want to volunteer, no sane person could truly want that unless they’ve been brainwashed.

Trink shares a look with Lennox for a second, and then behind her you see that the crowd is about to have two more people added to it, as District Two comes over here. You slump your shoulders slightly, tilting your head at the newcomers. Eytelle and Allio, the tall girl and the boy who spun the knife in his hand during the reaping.

“Are these four?” Allio asks, you take the guess now that he’s going to be the chattier one.

Eytelle is… the only comparison you can make with her, is that she’s shorter than Laurel, but not by much. Her parents must be giants, because if she’s only sixteen or so she’ll keep growing for a while. The height will give her an advantage when it comes to running, but she’ll have trouble trying to hide so easily.

“Clearly.” Trink mutters, looking over you a little more, “So what’s your skills?”

“That’s for us to know and for you to find out.” Finnick answers for both of you, “We don’t give shit away so easily. What are we getting in return?”

Trink measures this, but Allio speaks first, “Maybe a friendship if you play your cards right.”

A smile spreads over your face, as you try to look excited, “Wow! An alliance, that’ll be helpful!”

Lennox looks pleased at the suggestion, “Only if you want.”

Finnick offers you a glance, and you bob your head, trying to urge him to agree but not look desperate. This is what he wanted after all, and if you careers band together, then there’s no doubt that all of you will get a good portion of the population inside of the arena down before you know it.

You’re already forming a plan in your head. Team up with the careers, get to know all of their skills that they’ll show off inside of the training center. There, you will memorize everything, while also learning new skills. Then, when it comes to the arena, you’ll plot their murders very carefully. You’ll pick them off very carefully, space them so it doesn’t look like your fault.

But this would all work so much better if only one of you were in the pack. Finnick lures them to you, you kill them, injure him a little bit, and send him back to get the others riled up.

It’s not a bad plan, you’ll just have to work out the kinks, and present this to Finnick.

He is your accomplice.

-- CHAPTER FOUR --

This morning, Elysia had come to your room to wake you up. For a second, you thought she was doing it so that you’d be early to the table like you normally are. But she was kind enough to inform you that you had slept in past what she wanted already. Mags has been the only reason you’ve been allowed to stay in bed for so long.

As you got ready, you were a little confused on how you’d managed to sleep for so long. You're normally one of the people first awake, especially here. Once your body decides that it has enough energy to run off of, it sort of just wakes you up. You’ve been sleeping soundly every single night, as far as you know. So the exhaustion is coming out of nowhere.

It wasn’t until you had brought it up to them, where Finnick had informed you that you hadn’t slept as soundly as you thought. After you had eaten dinner last night, you’d stayed awake a little while to bring up the plan to Finnick, to get his opinion about luring them to their deaths. He seemed to like it, and then you went off to sleep in your own room.

He says that it must have been a couple of hours before the screaming had started. The first to the room was Mags, but she wasn’t able to get you up, since speaking is difficult for her. Instead, Finnick had to shake you awake, coaxing you out of whatever nightmare you had been trapped in.

You don’t remember any of it, it’s impossible for you to recall what happened. Elysia says that you must have been asleep still, but Finnick and Mags says you were coherent. You could hear them, and you listened to them try to calm you down from hyperventilating. Once you were in a good enough state, Mags went back to bed, and Finnick stayed a little while.

He just wanted to make sure that you would go back to sleep, but it had taken a while for you to calm down enough to get your heart to stop producing the adrenaline. Finnick tried to sit in the silence, but he wanted to know what the nightmare was about. What had gotten you to the point of screaming and hyperventilating.

You can’t remember it now, even though you’re awake and most of the time can relive the dream a little bit. It was apparently about you drowning, and that was all that you’d tell him. There had to be more though, because you’re not afraid of the water, you live in District Four. To be afraid of drowning would be so fucking ridiculous.

You have a feeling that it was about you taking your father's place in the accident, again. It’s a common nightmare you have. You’ll be on the boat with your brothers, and everything will be going good. But the boat will rock when one of you try messing with the other. Mox gets knocked off, you scramble to save him only to fall off the side. In the water, he’s nowhere to be seen. And then Reed will turn on the boat, leaving you in the middle of the water. The water only gets colder the more time goes on, and your joints will freeze in place. Swimming back to shore is impossible and you die out there, every single time.

You didn’t bother to explain all of that to Finnick, because you’re not looking for pity, it’s no point for him to know your life story. Instead you nodded along and went back to eating, because you then knew why you had been so exhausted. All it takes is one nightmare and a couple of shots of adrenaline to keep you going for a long ass time apparently.

Mags then transitioned into the training that you’re actually in right now. She pulled out her paper and pen and asked if you guys would want to train together. You told her that you’d already formed an alliance with him, so it would be pointless to hide anything. Finnick agreed, and then Mags went on to explain to hide most of your skills.

Just as you predicted anyway. She had wanted you guys to keep it low on the profile, especially you. Mainly she wants you to play dumb and go around with the stations, fumble with most of the things you do but take your time with learning them. She also knows of the career pack proposal, so she reminds you to keep friendly with them too, if that’s going to be your goal.

Of course, she doesn’t want you guys to get too attached or close. Don’t trust them because the chances of them turning on you at first chance is a little too easy. It will only be a matter of time in the arena before the tension snaps at they make a jump to kill any of you. You already know this. If you go through with the plan, then that means that they're going to be suspicious of everyone in the pack anyway.

Finnick is supposed to be good at everything inside of the training center. But as you watch him circle and go around the stations with Allio and Lennox, you can’t help but to think he looks like an idiot. Allio is more skilled in combat than you guys are, he can throw just about anything a good distance. Lennox seems to be the same.

You’ve watched as they make him throw spears, knives, axes, swords, just to see how good he is at it. They’re looking impressed, but you’re starting to see through Finnick’s facade. He keeps making a wince face each time he thinks he’s thrown it too terribly, his confident mask is falling too easily.

“Wow, look at her.” Trink says, you look up from the fire that you’re trying to start to see that they’re staring dead straight at the girl from District Eleven. You squint for a second to see what she’s doing, and then you smile.

“Thyme, right?” Eytelle asks, her arms are crossed over her chest, and she hunches over like she’s trying to make herself look like you’re all in the same height range, “She’s showing off.”

“Aren’t we all?” you ask, turning back to the fire, getting it started this time. Trink turns over, and you clap quickly, the smile turning to a grin as you look to the other two girls, like a proud kid, “I did it!”

“Took you a while.” Eytelle mutters, “What are you actually skilled at?”

“Besides fires, and knot tying.” Trink adds.

You have to show off at least one skill to get these people interested, “I can show up Finnick with the throwing.”

Trink perks up, “Show us.”

You push yourself up from your knees, starting your way to where the boys are. On the way, you make eye contact with Thyme. She has dark hair, brown-black it looks like. She’s tan, fairly tall, green eyes. She’s got to be the same age as you, because she looks young.

“I hear that District Eleven and Twelve have the skilled hunters--or at least they know what berries and leaves are safe to eat.” you tell them, “Thyme will be very useful.”

Eytelle scoffs, “Who says we can’t hunt actual food? Like meat?”

“What happens when there’s a storm, when all the fish and forest animals are out of the question? Berries, leaves, bark and all of that will save your lives instead. Turning someone like her down simply because she comes from a poor district is…. Stupid.” you tell them, and then you stalk off to join the guys for real.

“Hey Finnick!” he turns while he’s about to throw a knife, Allio and Lennox give you a quick look up and down. You haven’t really talked to them this entire time. Over your shoulder, you can see Eytelle approaching Thyme, while Trink bounces over.

“Well, go ahead.”

You hold out your hand for the knife that Finnick is holding. He gives you a warning look almost, like you don’t know what you’re doing, before handing it over. You give him a cheeky smile, “Watch and learn.”

You flip the knife around to hold it by the blade. Taking in a deep breath, you slowly let it out because you can’t fuck this up. And then, you draw your arm back, before throwing the knife forward with all the strength possible.

The knife covers the twenty feet in less than three seconds, hitting the dummy square in the head. You tilt your head slightly, “It’s a little off center.”

“Off center? You hit that thing….” Allio trails off, and you turn around to see Finnick with a smirk on his face.

Thyme is standing with Eytelle, and she claps a little bit for you, “Can you teach me to throw like that?”

“Sure!” you turn to look at the others, letting Trink narrow her eyes on you. She might be seeing through the act a little bit, “It’s the one thing I’m good at, I’ve had so much time to learn in District Four. I’ll teach Finnick too if you guys wanna go off by yourselves.”

They agree, heading off to some sort of other place they can show off at. Once they’ve gotten out of earshot, the smile on your face drops and you mock them for a second, grabbing the nearest knife. You throw it, and it hits the chest this time, “Thinking I can understand them just because--god are they annoying.”

Finnick snorts, before turning to look at Thyme, “Finnick, this is (Y/n).”

“I’ve heard.” She chirps happily, picking up one of the knives before turning to you, “When do we get started?”

You spend the next hour or so showing your new friend how to throw. Finnick isn’t so bad, it’s just the doubt that gets him. You tell them both that the less confidence they have in the throw, the worse it’ll turn out. Plus, throwing the knife is better than nothing in most situations anyway. If you have more tucked away, then it won’t hurt.

If the person is within your range, then the best you can do is at least try. It could turn out really well and you end up nailing them like you should. Or it could be horrible, land somewhere close to them. But you could call that a warning and say you did it on purpose later on.

Thyme turns out to be really nice, and she explains how Eytelle approached her. This is when you inform her that it was your idea, no matter what Eytelle had told her. To have her with you guys could put her in danger, but you’re all going to die anyway. She’s an outlying district, the chances of her winning is already slim. You basically just gave her a chance.

She’s already picked up on your act the second that the others come back around to check up on you. This is when Finnick lets them know that you’re really skilled at it, despite failing in all the other stations you’d managed to hit while walking around with them. Except for the obvious ones with knot tying, starting the fire and all of that.

Lennox jokingly asks what rock you’ve been living under for these past years, as if he can’t believe that you have no clue what you’re doing at all. But you just offer him a smile and shrug, saying that you don’t really have time for other things like that. You muse that if it weren’t for the fact that they’re agreeing for an alliance that you’d probably die in there alone.

They seem satisfied with that, and even though you hadn’t thanked them by any means, they say ‘you’re welcome’ and move on. This is when you and Finnick hang back.

Soon, you get bored of training, and you’re about to wave Thyme off, before she asks if she’s really included in the alliance. You tell her that it looks like it, and they wouldn’t have let her tag around, much less offered if they were kidding. She looks pretty satisfied, and you tell her to make friends with the others too. If this this fails then she’ll want an escape plan.

After that you leave the training center with Finnick, take the elevator up to your district floor, and go in to see that Laurel is showing off designs to Mags.

“Oops, are we walking in on something?” you ask, and Laurel looks over with a smile, “Not at all, welcome back.”

“Dinner will be served in an hour.” Elysia mutters, looking over from the tv.

“She’s telling us that we think and should probably shower.” Finnick whispers to you, Mags hears this and laughs.

She nods slightly, before shooing the both of you out the room as soon as Finnick’s stylist shows up behind you guys. It looks like they want to keep your interview outfits a surprise. It makes sense, they’re all about surprises and being prestigious. They think the outfits matter--because they do--but you don’t have that same taste. Neither does Finnick.

Back home you two would probably settle for a shirt and a pair of jeans. The occasion jacket, a nice pair of comfortable boots, and then that would be it. There’s not much to do around four, so there wouldn’t be a reason to dress up besides reaping day. You spend most of your time in a boat or in water.

Which means that you’re not even wearing boots, it would be a pair of sandals. If it’s cold in the morning, then your toes freeze and you just have to deal with it. Either you tuck your feet beneath you or shut up and just be cold. There’s a good possibility that you get thrown overboard by accident or on purpose. Or you’re spearing fish in the shallow, jeans being pulled up to your calves as you wade through the water.

You and Finnick stop outside your doors again, and he leans up against the wall.

“Allio and Lennox are annoying.”

“Stuck up?” you ask, a smile spreading over your face.

He rolls his eyes, “I don’t even think that word fits them. They think everyone inside of the arena is going to be easy to kill. That I’m probably going to be the only one who poses a threat.”

Your eyebrows raise, “They’re buying my act?”

“They don’t even think it’s an act. They think that you’re geniunely stupid and you’re just getting lucky with some of the things you know.”

That’s fair, you’re trying to play up the dumb damsel thing. You have to have one skill that will impress the gamemakers, and that will be just about it. If they keep you around for your skill to kill people, then that’ll be good enough. As long as you’re around.

“That’s good.”

“Anything about the other two? Trinket and Eyeball?” he purposely gets their names wrong.

You snort, “They’re buying it as good as the other two. I managed to convince them to invite Thyme, which I think will turn out handy.”

“How did you do that anyway?”

“Simply told them that if we run low on food and can’t find any animals, then berries and leaves is gonna be all that we have. So, she’ll be our best bet.”

He’s impressed, “Smart.”

“Yeah, I know. Any of the others show potential?”

“The boy from three, he’s been making things in the corner. Saw him make a knife from a stick, some vine and a rock.” Finnick tells you.

So he’ll definitely be dangerous. He’ll know how to make his own weapons from absolutely nothing. You wonder what else he knows how to make. If he can make knives, then there’s a possibility for a bow, spears, axes. Just depends on what setting you’re all going to be placed in.

“The others seem pretty reserved, or they’re not showing off what they can do.” Finnick yawns.

“Finally tired?” you tease.

“After sitting with you all night? Hell yeah I am.” he stretches, and then relaxes, “I’ll see you at dinner.”

“Yeah,” you wave him off, before going to your room.

You sit on the floor mainly, staring out the window, watching as the people below celebrate the games already. All you can think about is your family back home, and how they’re all holding up. You hope that Reed isn’t being too hard on Mox. You’re hoping that Mox hasn’t been crying this entire time, because there’s nothing to be worried about. You wonder if Alyssum notices that you’re gone.

You have a greater chance now. With an alliance forming, with learning all the new things that Thyme had taught you when she brought you to her special station. Showed you all the berries and leaves she could afford to before the others had come around again.

It’s almost like she didn’t want to show them, which is really fair. She doesn’t trust them as much, and you don’t either. But it also doesn’t make sense because technically you and Finnick are careers anyway. It could be because of the fact that you’re playing two different personalities, that you’re actually not stupid and just using them. Or it could be from a different reason that you don’t know.

She’s really nice though, and you’re glad that you suggested her. She shows promise, she learns really quickly. It took only a couple of minutes for her to learn to throw properly. It was just her doubt that was holding her back for the rest of the time.

When you disband the careers, you hope that she’ll stick with you. But when it comes down to the end, you don’t want to be the one that kills her. She’s too nice, she even told you a little bit about her family back home.

The more you get to know someone, the less you want to actually kill them, and that’s the painful part. If you were to get to know everyone that’s going to be thrown in, then you’ll feel bad. Except for Trink, Eytelle, Allio and Lennox, though. They volunteered and they’ve been training for this their entire lives.

It’s hard to feel bad for them. They leave everything they have behind just so that they can get the glory of a victor house. Infinite amounts of money, even though they basically already have that, since they’re rich. They just want to have their names be known for the generations to come. Be the ones to train the next pair of tributes that come on the train.

You don’t know how they’d want that at all. All they do is get the pain of watching the tributes die after they fail to do it properly. Then again, career. Volunteering. They almost always win. The works.

This really is going to suck.

LACUNA IS THE FIRST VERSION OF BELAMOUR

//MASTERLIST//

#ilguna #finnick odair #lacuna #lacuna chapter one #lacuna chapter two #lacuna chapter three #lacuna chapter four

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justauthoring · 2 years

Text

lacuna - chapter one.

*lacuna: a blank space; a missing piece or, “you’re my missing piece”.

word count: 4,026

a/n: here it is! (like four days late) my new series :) it will eventually be a kakashi hatake x reader, but im starting off things slow. i honestly have no idea how long this’ll be, we are just kind of going with the flow currently. nonetheless, i hope you guys enjoy this first chapter!

“Lord Third—!”

“We’ve set him up with an apartment, I’ve taken care of how his monthly expenses will work once he’s old enough. Y/N, honestly, there is no need for worry. The boy will be taken care of.”

“By who?”

The Hokage frowns, and you can tell by his lack of response that there isn’t specifically anyone.

Huffing, your shoulders fall. Your throat feels raw and the pure desperation flooding through your veins is making you lose sight of coherent thought. All you can think about is getting your point across, about trying to make the Hokage see reason—he had to see reason.

He had to understand.

“He’s just a child,” you cry out; forgetting yourself, forgetting who you’re stood before. “He shouldn’t grow up alone.”

“Y/N, you are a child yourself.”

Faltering, you shake your head, apprehension coursing through you as his words sink in. He was right, of course he was—you were just a child, no older than fourteen and by all rights, you were probably, realistically the least most qualified person to take care of a child. Of a baby no less. But he had nobody else. Not anymore, and certainly not when everyone who heard his name shrank away in pure terror.

No one wanted to take care of him, a mere baby, because of what was inside him. It hardly mattered either way to you—Kushina had had the same ‘monster’ in her, and she’d been like a mother to you. A guiding figure in your life. Never once had she scared you, hurt you and rather, she’d comforted you, cared for you and loved you when no one else had.

You weren’t afraid of this monster and you certainly weren’t afraid of this baby.

What did it even matter that you were a child? You’d been taking care of yourself for as long as you could remember and had done just fine.

Besides, anything was better than growing up alone.

You knew that better than anyone.

“Kushina and Minato took care of me when no one else would,” you whisper, the Hokage’s eyes widening at the mention of their names, a deep frown curling onto his lips. “Kushina was like the mother I never had and I know she would hate if her baby, her son grew up alone. With no one to love him. To hold him, care for him...

“I know I am just a child myself, Lord Third. But please,” steeling your gaze, you meet his own firmly, squaring your shoulders. “I don’t want Naruto to grow up not knowing what love feels like.”

His lips part, but words hesitate to leave.

“Like I did.”

Letting out a sigh, the Hokage’s head falls in defeat. It takes him a moment, a pause in thought, before his head is lifting and he’s pushing himself to his feet. You watch him closely as he rounds his table, before stopping before you, a gentle hand falling on your shoulder and a soft smile curling onto his lips.

“I will help with expenses and we will figure out how to work out missions for you.”

Your eyes gleam with hope, promise shining in them.

“But, Y/N, are you absolutely sure?”

And without hesitation, without even a thought of doubt, you nod.

“Of course I am.”

Before you know it, he’s in your arms. A bundle of giggles and blonde hair, wrapped up tightly in a blue blanket with small, chubby hands reaching out for you. You see Minato in him, the tufts of blonde hair and striking blue eyes, but it’s the expression in his eyes--just a baby, no more than a few weeks old--that you see Kushina staring back at you.

The tears well in your eyes before you can stop them, blurring your vision as he continues to babble on up at you.

Reaching out a finger, you poke at the whiskers marking his cheeks ever-so-gently, a smile curling onto your lips when he giggles at the touch. The sound is infectious and it warms your heart, love blooming in your chest as you sniffle.

“My names Y/N, Naruto,” you whisper, “and I’m going to take care of you for your mama and papa.”

—

“Naruto!”

His head is bowed so all you can see is his wild blonde hair staring back at you, hands folded in his lap as he brings his knees closer to his chest. You know it’s an attempt to hide himself from you; definitely, at the very least, hiding his face from your eyes. But you’ve been nearly out of your mind in worry for him, searching high and low through the village, that you don’t have the mind to care.

Falling to your knees before him, you let out a huff. “I’ve been worried sick about you, Naruto! You know you’re not supposed to--”

But your words fall silent as he slowly tips his head up, just enough to see his face and the scuffs marks across his forehead and his clothes, dirtying the freshly washed shirt you’d given him earlier that morning. However, that hardly bothers you and rather, it’s the large bruise across his cheek that catches your attention, eyes widening in panic as you instantly reach out for him, fingers softly brushing against the darkening mark as he winces.

“Naruto... What happened?”

Your voice is soft, a mere whisper; not a single trace of anger or frustration left in your voice as you frown deeply, chest tightening with panic.

Who could’ve done this to him? A little boy, no older than four--

Then it sinks.

“Naruto,” you call gently, a hand falling to his chin where you gently tip it upwards, meeting his eyes properly. “Did the villagers do this to you?”

His eyes instantly water, bottom lip wobbling as you feel your heart practically shatter. It’s not only the sight--a little boy, reduced to tears by cruel adults who sneer at him, say horrible, cruel things to him, and throw things at him hard enough to leave bruises. But the realization that no matter how hard you try, no matter how many times you’ve yelled and pleaded--falling to your knees, begging, in front of people--just for them to stop.

Stop terrorizing him.

None of it matters.

Their fear is too strong that they hardly care to see reason.

“I-I don’t understand,” Naruto babbles—words slurred and fumbled as tears stream down his cheeks and a sob wretches past his lips. You hastily wipe at his tears, the frown on your lips deepening as his tiny fingers grip onto the hem of his shirt, knuckles white. “I didn’t do anything!”

And he’s right of course. He hasn’t. Naruto, four years old, hasn’t done other than maybe break a plate or throw a tantrum for a silly reason. He’s a perfectly innocent child, maybe a little mischievous but nothing more than that.

But this monster, this thing inside of him—that was hardly in his control—had. More than just had; it’s killed people. Innocents. Terrorized the village. Killed Naruto’s own parents. And it’s just because it’s inside Naruto that he’s feared.

It’s hardly fair but you can’t do anything about it.

Mustering a smile to your lips, you hope it’s convincing enough as you lean back, pulling Naruto gently up to his feet. He lets you lead him, the tears having faded but still a frown on his lips as you dust off the dirt on his clothes, tidying him up.

“Come on, Naruto.” You call gently, brushing a hand over his bruise. “Let’s get you home, get you in some new clothes and how about I take you out for ramen tonight?”

Almost instantly, his face brightens. His eyes shine at the thought of his favourite food, especially from Ichiraku and not cup-style, and the pain is far from his gaze as he eagerly takes your extended hand, threading his fingers through your own firmly. His hand feels warm in yours, and like a perfect fit as you squeeze back, chuckling to yourself as he bounds ahead of you, skipping and pulling you along.

—

“You didn’t have to walk me...”

“It’s your first day, Naruto! Of course I had to.”

Blushing profusely, Naruto huffs, turning his head away from you as you merely sigh, shaking your head.

“Lot’s of other kids have their parents walking them.” You call out, hoping that he’s not actually that mad at you for your insistence to walk him—you knew it was slightly embarrassing, but you couldn’t help yourself! You remember your first day at the academy and how nervous you’d been. You didn’t want Naruto to have to go alone.

Even though the young boy was the complete opposite of you and was the furthest thing from nervous.

Crouching down next to Naruto, you point ahead of yourself. “Look, there’s a pretty pink-haired girl walking with her dad. See?”

Naruto peeks slightly, behind his hand which he’s used to cover his reddening cheeks, and when seeing what you have, his shoulders slowly fall and his hand returns to his side. The red in his cheeks fade slightly and he takes a good look around, noticing that, yes, in fact, lot’s of kids were being walked to school by their parents.

“…Thank you, Y/N-nee-chan.”

Smiling softly, you ruffle the top of Naruto’s head, laughing as he quickly swats at your hands.

“Your hairs already a mess, Naruto. I’m helping.”

“No, I styled it this morning!”

“With what?”

“Water.”

Rolling your eyes, you snort—but still, you pull your hand away.

“Okay,” you inhale sharply, “you’ll be good, right?”

Meeting your eyes, Naruto huffs. “Of course.”

Quirking a brow, you raise a finger, starting to list of the rules you’d gone through with him before. “No pranks, no yelling or interrupting the teacher, stay in your seat until the end of class--”

“Yes, yes, Y/N-nee-chan! I get it!”

Huffing, you nod, a smile gracing your lips as you reluctantly stop. A quick glance to your right and you see Iruka-sensei calling forth the new students and know it’s time to say goodbye.

Ignoring the tightening of your chest and the worry, you turn back to Naruto, setting your hands over his arms.

“I’ll pick you up after school, okay?”

“Okay.”

“Right here.”

“Yes! I’m gonna be late.”

Knowing Naruto’s right, you nod, letting go of him with a nervous smile.

But, just before he runs off, Iruka’s voice growing louder, Naruto leans forward, pressing a firm but gentle kiss to your cheek. It’s quick and when he pulls back, he’s red in the face, but there’s also a bright, radiating grin on his face and you feel your heart bloom at the sight of him so happy.

“Bye Y/N-nee-chan!”

Waving back at him, you watch him run in to the building past Iruka, pushing yourself up as you press a hand to your cheek.

What a sweet boy.

—

“I can’t believe she would take in such a child.”

“She must be as much of a monster herself.”

Rolling your eyes at the passing comments, you clutch the bag of groceries tighter. At this point, it was easy enough to ignore the gossip that travelled amongst the village. People could hardly keep their opinions to themselves, and outside of your fellow coworkers, quite a lot of the citizens seemed to be puzzled by your decision to take in Naruto.

As if he wasn’t just a child.

Nonetheless, you weren’t as childish yourself to retaliate. Truly they could say what they want about you, it hardly—

“How does she know he won’t murder her like he murdered the Fourth Hokage and his wife?”

Stilling in your step, your body freezes.

Head turning over your shoulder, you glance around, looking for the woman who’d spoken. She’s easy enough to find; tucked into an corner next to a fruit stand, whispering with her friend like two school girls.

Eyes sharpening, you turn towards her, marching right her way.

The two woman’s eyes widen when they see you’re approaching figure, shuffling back slightly in uncertainty as you bound towards them. You’re practically huffing in frustration, anger and disbelief coursing through your veins at their complete lack of respect and decency.

“I’d appreciate if you kept your mouths shut on matters that don’t concern you.”

The woman who’d spoken, scoffs; “excuse me?”

“You know what I’m talking about,” you hiss, leaning further towards her. “You can say all you want about me, but he’s just a boy. I won’t tolerate you spitting such ridiculous lies—“

“Y/N-nee-chan?”

Pausing at the sound Naruto’s soft voice, your eyes widen at the sight of him stood slightly behind you, glancing at you with furrowed brows and a frown.

“Naruto…”

You hear a gasp and you just barely manage to catch sight of the two woman gasping in fright at the sight of Naruto before quickly turning around, running the other direction.

Scoffing, you roll your eyes. Pathetic.

“Nee-chan?”

Turning back to Naruto, you smile down at him softly, extending your hand out towards him.

“Come on, Naruto. Let’s get you home. It’s almost dinner time.”

“Oh! Oh! Can we have ramen for dinner?”

Laughing lightly you shake your head, “we had ramen last night, Naruto. You need a better diet for a growing boy.”

—

“Would you like me to help with shuriken practice today?”

The continuous sound of Naruto’s slurping suddenly stops, and with a quirked brow, you turn your head over your shoulder, brows furrowing at the expression on his face.

Frowning, you shake your head.

“We don’t have to--”

“You’d really help me, nee-chan?”

Frowning, you set the plate you’d been drying down, making your way over to the table and taking a seat in front of Naruto.

“Of course,” you say with ease, nodding. “Why wouldn’t I?”

Naruto shrugs. “Everybody in my class is always talking about their fathers and brothers training them... There’s this one boy, Sasuke-teme. He thinks he’s so much better than me and he always beats me at everything! And I saw him with his brother today after school talking about how excited he was for shuriken training, and I don’t think it’s fair that he has someone to train him.”

Lips parting, your chest tightens as you feel guilt flood you.

You hadn’t realized Naruto wanted someone to train him that badly. Sometimes you’re so wrapped up in missions and trying to make sure Naruto has everything he needs that you sometimes forget how he must be feeling sometimes. Or about the basic, day-to-day bonding he’d be craving as a young boy. You’re not his mother, and you made sure Naruto knew that—the Hokage doesn’t want him to know who is parents are, a fact you’ve fought tooth and nail for with the no avail.

But you didn’t want Naruto thinking you were his mother—not when he had two parents who loved him deeply. And always would, even in death.

And even if you’re not his mother, you’re certainly (obviously) not his father—and you couldn’t give him that guidance that a young boy needs from one. You could hardly speak from experience, having no father yourself.

“I’m sorry, Naruto,” you sigh, shoulders slumping as you shake your head. “I didn’t realize how you must be feeling.”

Lips parting, Naruto moves to speak—but you don’t realize, and continue on before he can.

“I know I can’t be a strong father or a cool brother to you, and never can be, but I’d love to help you with your training. Whenever you need, okay?”

“Y/N-nee-chan.”

Blinking at Naruto’s oddly stern voice, you meet his gaze.

“I don’t care if I don’t have a father or brother,” he whispers, “I just want you to train me.”

Body easing, a warmth floods your chest at his words, a bright smile curling onto your lips.

“Finish your supper and then we’ll go out to train, okay?”

“Okay!”

—

“Good luck today, okay, Naruto?”

With a bright, shining grin, Naruto hardly falters just like he always does. Today was the day, the test that would confirm if he would be a ninja or not. He’s, unfortunately, failed two times previous today and the two have you have been relentlessly to help him sharpen his skills.

He was pretty good at most things... mostly good. But he seemed to struggle at producing a shadow clone, one of the basics that a child needed to know in order to graduate from the ninja academy. You’ve been working hard to try and help him at least create one semi successful shadow clone, but have yet to be able to.

Nonetheless, despite you spending the entire night worrying—Naruto had woken up with a bright smile, never wavering and not an ounce of doubt in his mind.

If there’s one thing Naruto had, it was confidence

“Of course, nee-chan. I’m gonna pass the test today, for sure.”

Biting your lip, you swallow thickly. You smile lightly, meeting his eyes with a nervous laugh. “I’m sure you will. But... even if you don’t, I won’t be any less proud of you, okay?” Naruto’s face falters and he frowns down at you, not understanding your words.

“I just mean... there are lots of other things besides being a ninja, right? You don’t have—”

“Of course I have to!” Naruto sharply interrupts you, stunning you as you blink at him. His face has hardened and he looks suddenly ten times more determined than he had seconds prior. “I already told you. I’m going to be Hokage one day, nee-chan, and will make the world recognize me. Believe it!”

Shoulders easing, you smile slightly. “Yes, of course. I’m sorry, Naruto. I know you will.”

Grinning, Naruto sends you a thumbs up. “Today’s the day! I know it! I’ll be one step closer to being Hokage, and being able to protect you, nee-chan.”

Cheeks warming, your smile brightens at his innocent, warming words.

Reaching forward, you lightly ruffle his hair. “I know, Naruto. You’re gonna pass today, believe it!”

He shrugs your hands away, but grins at your words, his thumbs up never wavering as he shuffles back.

“When I see you later today, nee-chan, I’m gonna have a headband, believe it!”

“Please, Lord Third, you have to understand! I’m sure he didn’t mean it. He’s a good boy, a really good boy. I know he plays pranks a lot and can cause trouble for the village but Naruto means well. If I could just speak to him, I know he didn’t do this—!”

The Hokage raises his hand and you still have half the mind to understand what that means and what your position is as a ninja. Wisely shutting your mouth, you ignore the tightening of your chest and the way you desperately want to plead and beg until you’re positive Naruto is okay.

Instead, you keep your mouth shut, waiting patiently.

You know the Hokage is not a cruel man and you pray he’ll have sympathy for Naruto.

“You misunderstand me, Y/N.”

Brows furrowing, you glance up to meet his eyes.

“I have no intention of bringing any harm to Naruto. I merely want to find him and the scroll.”

Eyes widening, your lips part; “I—!”

“Surely you understand why I cannot send you after the boy, Y/N. But I promise you, I’ve sent teams to find him already and I’ll bring him safe back to you.”

Shoulders easing, you bite back the argument about finding Naruto yourself. It’d be wise not to push the Hokage more—because at the end of the day, you know what Naruto has done is terribly wrong. Stealing The Scroll of Sealing... You can’t believe the boy would have the nerve to do so.

You honestly thought you raised him better than to do something so childish and stupid. An act like that would normally be considered an act of treason, and you have all the Gods to thank, and the Hokage stood before you that Naruto’s actions haven’t.

You don’t know what you’d do if they had.

Setting a hand on your shoulder, much like he had on that day twelve years ago, the Hokage squeezes it; as if already knowing the thoughts that swarm your mind relentlessly.

“Just wait here.”

And so you do. You do, and it feels like eternity has passed when really it’s only been an hour. You’ve dug welts into your palms from clenching your fists so hard, and you’re sure you’ve dug a whole in your own lip from biting it so hard. And you’re just about to disregard the Hokage ordering you to stay put and find Naruto yourself, when the door opens.

When you turn, eyes wide with hope and anticipation; the first person you see is Iruka. And for a second, just a split second, your heart plummets and you fear the worst, but then you see a peak of blonde hair and relief floods your entire body, easing the muscles that had been tensed since you’d heard about what Naruto had done.

With a gasp, you call out; “Iruka!”

He smiles at you, and distantly you notice the wounds marking his face. But you can barely think of asking him if he’s okay when he turns, letting Naruto slip past him and your eyes finally fall on the boy that’s sent you into a near panic attack with absolute worry and fear, your feet moving before you can stop them.

Naruto walks in slowly, head bowed, fearing how mad you’ll be. Especially when he wouldn’t expect anything else, knowing how severe of a mistake he’s made. However, he’s shocked when instead of hearing yelling or receiving lecture, he feels your arms wrapping around him tightly, pulling you flush against your chest as you press a hand to the back of his head.

He’s frozen still with surprise for a moment. But then, as Naruto listens, his lips frown and his guilt-ridden gaze turns to one of concern when he hears how shaky your breathing is. He also, in that moment, notices how despite how tightly you’re squeezing him, he can feel you shaking against him and hear your heart pounding erratically against his ear that’s pressed against your chest.

“I was so worried,” you breathe, voice a gentle whisper.

Iruka slips out of the room then, but neither of you notice.

“Don’t ever do that to me again.”

Slowly easing in your grasp, Naruto shakes his head in your grip, pulling away enough to meet your gaze. “You’re not mad?”

“I was,” you admit, nodding at him with a deep frown. Naruto falters, guilt flooding his gaze once again, avoiding your gaze, but you just shake your head, letting your hands fall on his arms. “But I’m just happy you’re okay and safe and—“

Pausing, your eyes catch a glint of silver and your lips part.

“Is that—?”

“Oh,” blushing, Naruto chuckles faintly, bashful. “Iruka-sensei gave it to me. He told me I’d proved myself as a ninja.”

Eyes widening, it’s take you a second to process Naruto’s words before a full fledge smile curls onto your lips. You have no idea what had happened tonight, but you know Naruto and his infectious ability to help everything and everyone around him. You’re sure he’s barely aware of it himself, but him simply just being apart of your life has healed you in ways you’d never thought possible.

You figure that he’d done that tonight, and proved he was ready to be the ninja you’d always knew he’d be.

A squeal of excitement leaves your lips, stunning Naruto, before he finds himself wrapped tightly in your waiting embrace once more.

“Nee-chan!” He sputters, startled.

“I’m so proud of you, Naruto! So, so proud!”

And after a moment, seeing the genuine pride shining in your eyes and the bright, radiating smile on your face, Naruto returns your embrace, smaller arms moving to wrap around your waist as he presses his head into the crook of your neck.

He relishes in the moment, eyes falling shut.

“I’m gonna be Hokage one day, nee-chan, and I swear to you, I’ll protect you for the rest of my life, believe it!”

#naruto #naruto imagine #naruto x reader #naruto shippuden #naruto shippuden imagine #naruto shippuden x reader #kakashi hatake #kakashi hatake imagine #kakashi hatake x reader #kakashi #kakashi imagine #kakashi x reader #naruto uzumaki #naruto uzumaki x reader #imagine #imagines #my fics

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kteabug · 3 years

Text

just out of reach - m.list

Summary: Iwaizumi and Oikawa were always within arms reach of the other, but what happens when misunderstandings and unspoken emotions drive them apart? What happens when everything they thought they knew about the other ceases to be true and they are left to pick the pieces of their friendship up…alone?

Pairings: Alpha!Iwaizumi x Omega!Oikawa

Warnings: Angst, Slow-burn, Friends to strangers, Strangers to friends, Occasional smut, Mentions of depression, manipulation, gaslighting, anxiety, toxic behaviors.

Rating: 18+ Tag list: Open (send an ask to be added)

Word Count: 65,660 (as of latest chapter)

Updates: Irregular Last Updated: May 22, 2022

JOOR Headcanons

JOOR Playlist

JOOR - OC profile 1

JOOR - OC profile 2

JOOR - OC profile 3

JOOR - OC profile 4

Prologue: latibule

Chapter One: habromania

Chapter Two: eccedentesiast

Chapter Three: induratize

Chapter Four: eshajōri

Chapter Five: whelve

Chapter Six: waldosia

Bonus Chapter One: nepenthe

Bonus Chapter Two: acquiesce

Chapter Seven: setsunai

Chapter Eight: anaziphilla

Chapter Eight.Five: lacuna

Chapter Nine: rubatosis

Chapter Ten: retrouvailles

Chapter Eleven: sillage

Chapter Twelve: resfeber

Chapter Thirteen: kairos

Chapter Fourteen: selcouth

Chapter Fifteen: metanoia

Chapter Sixteen: petrichor

Chapter Seventeen: natsukashii

Chapter Eighteen: ephialtes

Chapter Nineteen: sciamachy

Chapter Twenty: saudade

Epilogue: ikigai

hq m.list

#haikyuu #haikyuu omegaverse #iwaoi omegaverse #oikawa tooru #iwaizumi hajime #haikyuu iwaoi #hq iwaoi #haikyuu oikawa #haikyuu iwaizumi #oikawa x iwaizumi #iwaizumi x oikawa #omega oikawa #alpha iwaizumi #iwaoi slow burn #haikyuu oiiwa #hq oiiwa #omegaverse au #kteabug joor

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celestialmark · 4 years

Text

Lacuna - Epilogue

- Characters: Johnny Suh x members of nct - Category: single parent au, fluff, slight angst - Word count: 6k - Warnings: - - Navigation: prologue | part one | part two | part three | part four | part five | epilogue - Author’s notes: hello I am so emotional because I can’t believe this is really the end of the series.. I initially wrote this for my dearest friend who’s so close to my heart, but somehow along the way, a lot of you followed, patiently waited and liked this story and I will always and forever be grateful to all of you. I’ve grown so attached to this series and knowing it’s the end now is making me so sad yet so happy at the same time. I really hope this epilogue makes up for all the angst we’ve all been through the past few chapters and that it meets all of your expectations. I love you all heaps and bunches and thank you for reading and staying with me throughout this series. happy reading my sweet! x

“Daddy’s home!” You say to Youngho excitedly when you hear the front door slide open with Johnny now possessing keys to your house.

Youngho immediately drops his pencil on the table, completely forgetting about his unfinished homework, hopping off the chair and racing towards the front door to see Johnny taking off his shoes by the hallway.

“Daddy!” Youngho exclaims, his voice rippling through the house.

“Hey buddy,” Johnny greets with a warm smile that reaches his eyes and lowers himself to meet Youngho’s outstreched arms for him. “How was school today?”

“Really good! My teacher said I draw really well,” Youngho brags proudly, standing tall when Johnny lets go of him.

Johnny grins and ruffles Youngho’s hair, “I’m so proud of you! Good job!” Letting his eyes scan the hallway, his natural instinct is to look for you. “Is mommy around?”

“Kitchen!” Youngho replies and walks off.

You emerge by the hallway then, arms crossed across your chest, a bashful smile on your lips as you watch Johnny tug at his tie to loosen it, still clad in his tux after being at work all day. He looked divine, to say the least, even when the stresses of the day has beaten him down to a pulp.

Johnny’s face lights up immediately when his eyes land on you, his shoulders drooping unknowingly, already feeling a thousand times calmer at the sight of you. “Hey you.” He opens his arms, the gaze in his eyes inviting you and you try so hard not to melt because this was your reality now.

“Hey,” you greet shyly, walking towards him and reaching upwards to circle your arms around his neck just as he wraps his around your waist, his embrace firm, burying his face into your shoulder.

“Missed you,” you hear him mumble.

You chuckle, your insides warm, “When do you not?”

“Good question,” Johnny replies, lifting his head off your shoulder and pulling himself back so that he can look at you, his arms never leaving you. “But would it hurt if you said it back? Even if you have to lie?”

You laugh just as a teasing smile lifts on his face. “Missed you,” you finally say. “And that’s not a lie.”

Johnny bites at his lower lip to suppress his smile from getting wider, the woman of his dreams finally so close to him like this, feeling like the luckiest man on earth, because well, he’s convinced he was.

“Beautiful,” he whispers, his eyes glazing over every single one of your features, nothing but love and affection in his shining orbs. Johnny’s ducking his head, resting his forehead against yours in the process, determined to plant a kiss on your lips and you’re closing your eyes as he’s doing so, wanting nothing more than to feel him closer.

When you feel his breath against your skin, heartbeat skyrocketing and mind hazy with the thought of him, you’re quick to let go of him when Youngho’s voice jolts you both. “Mommy! I need help with this question!”

You’re suddenly chuckling, the disappointment in Johnny’s face too amusing for you not to make fun of. “Maybe later,” you tease but you lean on your tip toes anyway to plant a quick kiss on his cheek, hoping it’ll make do for now before walking away from him to tend to your son.

Johnny finds you and Youngho side by side on the dining table with you assisting Youngho on a particular question for his homework, your eyes focused on him as he jots down what comes to his mind after your direction. Johnny leans on the doorframe, revelling in the sight in front of him, falling in awe that this was his very own family and to make things even better, a family with the love of his life, his first love, you.

“Good job baby,” you praise when Youngho finishes the final question, squishing his cheeks in between your palms and planting a kiss on his forehead.

Not only were you an amazing lover, you were the best mother too.

When you spot Johnny watching you interact with Youngho with a soft smile, you tilt your head to the side, silently questioning him for just standing there, he just gives you another heart-stopping smile before he’s shaking his head and finally moving from his spot to join you both on the table.

“What do you boys want to eat for dinner?” you ask when Johnny takes a seat beside Youngho, helping you put away his books into his backpack.

“Pizza!” Youngho cheers.

“I don’t think that’s a good idea,” you counter, knowing how much junk Youngho’s been having recently and plus it had been an agreement between you two that treats were saved for Fridays, a few more days to go until then.

“But mommy—“

“A healthier option maybe baby.”

Youngho pouts but when an idea pops up in his head, he’s suddenly turning to Johnny who’s just finished zipping his backpack when he places the last book inside. He’s tugging on Johnny’s sleeve, puppy eyes ogling up at him.

“Daddy,” he whispers.

When Johnny grasps what he’s trying to imply, he slowly trails his eyes over to you to which is met by a knowing gaze, already aware of what your son was trying to do.

“I think pizza sounds good!” Johnny suddenly announces and it makes you roll your eyes because these two were already scheming with one another, making it two against one.

So that’s how you find yourselves lounging in the living room with a box of pizza on thhe coffee table, Youngho’s favourite movie playing on the television after yet another successful persuasion from the two to allow him to watch on a school night. Youngho is wedged in between you and Johnny, a blanket big enough draped over your laps. Every now and again, Youngho would tug at Johnny’s sleeve when his favourite part would come up and it makes Johnny pay extra attention, asking Youngho in return why certain parts have become his favourite. And it doesn’t take long before Youngho’s snoozing, head falling towards your side. So when the movie ends and Johnny’s turned the television off, Johnny lifts Youngho in his arms as you watch him with a fond smile, thanking the heavens for blessing your life with such an endearing man whose affection for his son literally oozes in the way he looks at him.

When Johnny returns a few minutes later, he returns to his seat on the couch, only this time, he sits much closer to you, his shoulder touching with yours as you work to make sure he’s under the blanket just as much as you were. He’s reaching for your hand and when gets a hold of it, he interlocks his fingers with yours, his skin warm and soft. You lean your head on his shoulder, exhaling a breath of relief.

“Finally some time alone with you,” Johnny muses, turning his head slightly to kiss your head. He’s rubbing the back of your hand with his thumb as he rests his head on top of yours. “I missed this.”

“Me too,” you agree quietly. “Actually, I missed a lot of things.”

“Enlighten me.”

You shrug your shoulders, “Just.”

Johnny stays silent for a few seconds, merely gazing at the side of your face, smiling gently, literal hearts oozing out of his eyes. “I missed you the most,” he murmurs. “I missed your voice, I missed your hugs, I missed your kisses.”

You chuckle.

“Cheesy.”

“But true,” Johnny reiterates. He’s raising his free hand and it lands on your cheek as you lift your head off his shoulder so that you can look at him, “Remember the letter I wrote you?”

“Mhm.”

“I meant every single word, I still do,” Johnny’s staring into your eyes, gentle and warm orbs that you lose yourself into, a literal window to the depths of his soul; kind, compassionate, loving. “What’s better now is that I get to tell you whenever I want and need to.”

“And here I was crying over you denying what you said when you were drunk,” you say, turning away from him, the memory of that devastating time making you grimace.

Johnny laughs and it vibrates through his chest as he throws his head back. “It’s not funny,” you sulk. “That one hurt.”

“Babe, I lied to you because I thought you chose someone else over me,” Johnny points out when he settles down, catching his breath.

The hairs on your skin stand immediately at the nickname, the thought of it being directed at you making you feel all sorts of emotions inside. “Yeah and look where you assumptions brought you. If you would’ve just asked or let me finished talking—”

Johnny rests his forehead on the side of your head, “I know, I know. I’m sorry for being stubborn.” His hand leaves yours just so he can lift your legs so that it rests on top of his thighs, wanting you close as possible. You’re chuckling as you encircle your arms around his neck, resting the side of your head on his shoulder. “If it makes you feel better, I'm still as crazy about you as the first day I met you,” Johnny sighs, planting a kiss on your forehead.

Everything stills from then on, with you just taking in this moment with Johnny, so content and calm having him this close as his arms tighten themselves around your waist, his palms squeezing them every now and again. No matter how many years have passed, he was still the Johnny you remembered him to be and maybe even better now because he was here for you to hold. And he’s still as expressive as you remember him to be, always facing his emotions face front, no reluctance in confessing how he felt for you, especially with what he says next.

“I love you, y/n.”

It comes out in a low whisper, so delicate, words only for you.

Your home was finally home.

“What are you doing here?”

Your tone is questioning, eyebrow raised but there’s a bashful smile on your face when you see Johnny exit his car, his tie already loose around his neck when he reaches you by the gates of your preschool. He takes your bag from you and plants a chaste kiss on your cheek.

“Picking up my girlfriend from work, what else?” Johnny replies casually and moves to open the passenger seat for you.

You’re trying so hard not to crumble, but the blush that’s creeping up on your cheeks is surely giving you away right now. So you duck your head to avoid Johnny's gaze and scurry to get into the car so that you can take a deep breath to calm yourself. It feels just like the time Johnny courted you during the earlier years of your youth.

“How was work today babe?” Johnny asks as he revs the engine of his car to life, eyes on the road after strapping your seatbelt for you and he doesn’t stop there because once you’re settled in your seat, he’s reaching for your hand, lacing his fingers with yours and keeping it in place on his thigh.

You’re smiling as you train your eyes on the road ahead, afraid that if you glanced at the man who’s making your heart thump, you’d literally melt. “Okay, the usual, the kids are still as cute as ever.”

Johnny smiles and brings your palm up so that he can kiss the back of your hand. “I’m glad to hear that.”

“How about yours?” You ask, finally having the courage to look at him, even is side profile seeming too perfect in your eyes. “I thought you’d be at work all day today?”

You see Johnny shrugging his shoulders, “Might have taken an hour off to see you.”

Though it warms your heart, you can’t help but roll your eyes. “Are you even allowed to do that?”

“Probably not,” Johnny points out and glances at you for a second, “But I couldn’t help it.”

You scoff fondly, “You are something else Johnny Suh.”

Johnny chuckles and gives your hand a squeeze. “Do we need to pick up Youngho?”

You shake your head, “No, Jaehyun is dropping him off my house later.”

Johnny grins, “Great. More alone time with you.”

“You’ve used up thirty minutes of your unofficial one hour off work babe, I think it’s best you drive back as soon as you drop me off,” you point out playfully.

“Say it again.”

“You need to drive back—”

“No. Not that. What you called me.”

You blink at him before you realise when you recount your words. “B-babe?”

And then you feel the car come to a complete stop when Johnny pulls up on the side of a random road. He’s turning to you, letting go of your hand and smiling at you widely, his eyes disappearing. “I missed you calling me that,” he confesses and before you know it, he’s holding either sides of your face and leaning inwards to plant a sweet kiss on your lips, his happiness transcending from his lips to yours.

You’d almost forgotten how expressive this man was and honestly, it seemed as if Johnny was here to remind you and you really didn’t mind at all.

It doesn’t take long for the two of you to arrive at your house when Johnny begins to drive again, pulling the brakes just outside the gates of your home. He doesn’t want to go and you can tell by the way he tightens his hand around yours.

“Have a good evening at work,” you say, reaching across your seat to kiss his cheek which immediately makes him smile. “Please don’t give your employees a hard time, and also please stop slacking.”

Johnny’s chuckling, “For your information, I happen to be the best boss around.”

“Who also happens to disappear from work at random times of the day to do whatever he wants,” you rebuke, teasing him by pressing your index finger to his forehead.

“Hey hey hey,” Johnny defends, “This was crucial for me. I needed to see you so that I can focus on my work later. Call it a breather if you will.”

You’re rolling your eyes again but your grinning along with him, heart warm and giddy at the nonsense coming out of his mouth, “I’m not going to argue with you anymore because you’re going to be late.”

“I don’t mind, it’s okay.”

“Oh but I do,” you say, reaching across to kiss him on the cheek again, “Thanks for coming to see me, drive safe okay?”

Johnny puckers his lips and tugs at your hand when you’re just about to lean away, keeping your in place. “Another one,” he requests, puckering his lips out even more, “Here.”

You raise a brow at him, “Were you always this clingy?”

“I have every right to be after five years, babe. Cut me some slack.”

You laugh, the sound ringing in Johnny’s ears, falling for you all over again. You comply to his wishes, letting go of his hand to cup his face in your palms and landing a kiss on his lips, allowing them to linger on his for a while longer, feeling Johnny smiles against your lips before you’re eventually pulling away.

“I’ll see you tonight,” Johnny announces when you’re unbuckling your seatbelt. “Don’t miss me too much!”

“I’m taking it that you and Johnny worked things out?”

Ten and Jaehyun’s heads snap towards you at Taeyong’s mention of Johnny’s name.

“Really?!” Ten says excitedly as you hand him a fork for the pasta that Jaehyun is scooping out of the bowl.

You give Taeyong a weird look, wondering how he came to that conclusion without any explanation from your side, “What made you say that?”

“You look really happy,” he points out and it makes Ten and Jaehyun take a closer look at you, literally moving their faces closer to yours across the table to examine you.

Ten’s eyes widen, “That is true!”

You roll your eyes and push their faces away with the base of the palm of your hands, “I look like this all the time, thank you very much.”

Jaehyun shakes his head and resumes scooping out a portion of pasta for you, “I haven’t seen you this happy since university days.”

“It looks good on you, y/n,” Taeyong adds.

“Thank God,” Ten clucks his tongue. “I don’t know how much longer I could’ve endured seeing you so miserable.”

Your mouth forms an “o” and both of your brows raise at Ten who’s begun digging in his food, “What does that even mean? I didn’t look that miserable, did I?”

Taeyong shrugs, “Ten is just being dramatic.”

Jaehyun nods, “Yeah, don’t mind him.”

When you look at Ten again, he’s set his fork down on his plate and you assume he’s trying to mimic you when he pretends to cry, sniffing as he pouts his lips. “You looked like this almost every time I saw you since Johnny got back. I’m not lying and certainly,” he narrows his eyes at Taeyong who’s setting glasses down around the table, “not being dramatic.”

Jaehyun takes a seat, a smile playing on his lips, “If it makes you feel better, Johnny was just as miserable as you. If not, maybe even more.”

“Really?”

Taeyong nods and takes a seat beside Jaehyun, “Yeah. I’ve never seen him so sad before. He basically barged in Ten’s house that night and got drunk by himself. He was saying all these things about you to us.”

“And you know, Johnny hardly cries,” Ten adds. “But he cried that night with us.”

Memories of that night flood your thoughts and that’s when you're reminded how difficult things must have been for Johnny. All this time, he’s been tending to your wounds and helping you heal while it has only occurred to you now that he might actually be needing the exact same thing from you.

The doorbell rings then and Taeyong is quick to go and get the door while you’re in the midst of coming back to reality after having zoned out for a few seconds. Johnny emerges from the hallway and he waves at the guys before he’s walking towards you and openly wrapping an arm around your waist to pull you close so he could press a kiss on your cheek.

“Hey,” he murmurs.

“Yup, they’re definitely together again,” Ten states, pointing his fork at you two.

Taeyong and Jaehyun who’ve seen the scene unfold immediately take their eyes off you two, the feeling of being around the both of you reminding them of the old times. “Yup, definitely,” Taeyong mumbles and begins to eat.

As the four of them talk over dinner with your occasional nod and laugh here and there, you can’t help but be silent for the majority of the time, your earlier thoughts nagging at you in your head because the one thing you’re forgetting and have forgotten all this time is that Johnny is really good at masking, at hiding everything he needed to. As expressive as he was with how he felt, he was also the number one contender for hiding things he didn’t want to feel and you can’t help but feel hurt at the thought of him suffering too, silently, and by himself.

Johnny notices your unusual behaviour and gives your thigh a squeeze from time to time to let you know he’s there, not let you know he notices something is off with you, and though you give him a smile, you’re sure he’s not buying your silent reassurances. So when the guys leave some time after dinner ends, Johnny’s tugging at your arm, grabbing your attention from the dishes that you’re about to wash.

“A penny for your thoughts, hm?” he says softly, a small smile adorning the corners of his lips.

Johnny hasn’t let go of your arm and so you use your free one to pull him close, landing yourself in his chest, arms rising to wrap around his body. When you rest your head against his chest, you can hear his steady heartbeat, calming you in a way nothing else can. “Johnny, you know I'm always here for you, right?”

You feel his arms wrap around you in return, gently pulling you closer into his warmth. “Where is this coming from babe?”

“Just.. we’ve always been talking about me and everything that happened when you were gone,” you begin, lifting your head off his chest to look up at him. “But we never talk about you and how things have been for you during that time... I, I want to know.”

“This is what’s been bothering you?”

You nod.

Johnny takes his eyes off you momentarily, staring into nothing to conjure up an answer to your question and when he’s ready to answer, he redirects his eyes on yours, lips pressed into a thin line. “There isn’t much to tell you if I’m honest. Besides what I've written in that letter.. really nothing much else. All I remember is every day consisting of me missing you, of not really having any energy to do anything because nothing felt right at that point even when it was everything I wanted.. Just, it was hard, I guess?” Johnny pauses, thinking back to all the times he’s spent by himself sleeping off everything that weighed him down. “It was hard since I never really had anyone to talk to and I think I was coming from a position where I didn’t really want to leave in the first place. I guess I just never really came to terms with missing home in those five years.”

You sigh, imagining how difficult all those times must have been. You want him to talk more, to tell you more, possibly every little and big thing that happened in your absence. But you knew better because Johnny almost never talked about anything that upset him.

“And the only reason why I keep asking about you is because I’m sure you’ve had a tougher time raising our son on your own,” Johnny continues, his eyes warm and gentle. “I keep asking about you because I want to know how I can make up for it now.”

You can’t help but smile, Johnny’s ability to always put you first making you feel all sorts of love. “It’s different though, I had Youngho that made everything a little easier. Raising him has been nothing but a blessing. At least for me, I had him. With you...”

“Hey hey hey, stop that,” Johnny interrupts, leaning inwards to press his forehead against yours, eyes tender and lips curled upwards. “It doesn’t matter anymore okay? What matters now is that you and I are here, together, with Youngho. We have the rest of our lives to make up for everything we missed in those five years, okay?”

You nod slightly, your arms wrapping themselves around his neck, “Promise me one thing?”

“What is it, love?”

“Promise me you’d talk your heart out more to me.”

Johnny chuckles, “Geez, if I did, you’d be sick of hearing my cheesiness very quick.”

“Babe, I mean it.”

Johnny smiles and it make you smile too.

“I promise.”

Johnny places a soft kiss on your forehead and you close your eyes instantly to relish it all in, feeling a little too overwhelmed when you realise he really is finally here. You stay comfortable in your position, in his arms where you feel the safest, in the stillness and quietness of your house, just the two of you in the silence of your thoughts and the in the peace of your hearts. You feel Johnny squeeze you in his arms and your heart warms for a hundredth time for all the right reasons.

“Hey y/n?”

“Hm?”

“Come live with me.”

You should’ve known from the moment you opened your eyes first thing in the morning today when Johnny peppered your face with more kisses than usual, when he literally carried you off the bed and into the bathroom just so you could get ready for the day, when he literally could not stop grinning at you like some weirdo until the very moment he dropped you off at work, that he was up to something. With his hands covering both your eyes, body pressed gently behind you to lead you into the right directions, you’re beginning to grow impatient because even though you knew he was keeping something from you, he wouldn't budge and tell you what it was.

“Johnny— I swear, what is happening?”

“Shh, just trust me birthday girl.”

You huff and it makes Johnny chuckle behind you, your hands wrapped around his wrists for support. “I feel like I'm going to trip and fall on my face. Could you please just let me see where I'm going?”

“Where’s the fun in that?” Johnny asks rhetorically. “And besides, don’t you trust me?”

You don’t bother to answer him, just letting him lead you further for another two minutes before you feel him come to a stop behind you. You exhale a breath, somehow your heart picking up its pace because from what you can remember, Johnny always loved to surprise you and with every single one that came after the previous, he had always outdone himself in ways you never thought he would. A small part inside of you is anticipating and the bigger part is excited, despite your actions showing otherwise.

“Okay babe, keep your eyes closed until I tell you to open them, okay?”

“Alright.”

You feel Johnny’s hands leave your eyes and you hear him scurry away from you, his steps echoing towards somewhere in front of you.

“Okay, open them!”

And you finally do.

“HAPPY BIRTHDAY Y/N!”

In front of you are the people you love the most, with party hats on their heads and streamers flying in all directions. You’re smiling as you scan the whole room, your eyes falling on Youngho first who’s in Johnny’s arms, Taeyong, Ten and Jaehyun in another corner and Mr and Mrs Suh in front of the small crowd, smiling at you fondly. The entire kitchen and dining area is decorated with banners and balloons, all catered to your liking with food spread out generously on the dining table and the kitchen counter. Everyone’s grinning at you and you’re not really sure what to say because out of all the possible things Johnny could have prepared for your special day, you certainly did not expect this.

“Oh my god, you guys!” you manage to croak out, your eyes brimming with tears with how overwhelmed you are because in this room, was everyone you loved so dearly.

From the corner of your eye, you see Johnny set Youngho down from his arms and making his way over to you. When he reaches you, you’re already bent down to meet him at eye level.

“Happy birthday mommy,” he greets with a toothy smile, proceeding to put a hat on your head.

“Thank you so much baby,” you murmur when he’s reaching for your face to give you a kiss. “Did you plan this with daddy?”

Youngho nods shyly and you shoot Johnny a glance behind him only to be met with a dreamy smile. It isn’t long before everyone’s digging in for food, the boys hugging you one by one to congratulate you on another year of existence, along with Mr and Mrs Suh who greet you nonstop and pulling you aside to talk about anything and everything, ecstatic at the news of you and Johnny getting back together.

“I’m so happy for the both of you!” Mrs Suh exclaims, pulling you in for what feels like a sixth hug. “This has been everything Johnny’s ever wanted, and really, all we’ve ever wanted!”

Mr Suh chuckles and taps his wife by the shoulder, “You can let her go now, she has other guests to entertain.”

Mrs Suh releases you immediately, “Oh my God, I’m so sorry honey, I got carried away! I’m just so happy.”

You smile in return, taking a moment to spot Johnny in the room behind you before directing your attention back to his parents, “I’m just as happy as you are. I really am.”

And you really meant it.

“How does it feel to be a year older?” Ten asks by the counter, munching on some barbecue.

“I feel the same?” you point out with a shrug of your shoulders. “I don’t feel much different!”

“Hey y/n,” Jaehyun butts in, a plate full of food in his palm, “Remember that time you asked me about dating someone so Youngho could have a playmate?”

Taeyong finds himself beside you, picking up a piece of watermelon with his fork, “Well now you have someone to make Youngho’s playmate with!”

Ten and Jaehyun are wiggling their eyebrows at you from across the counter while Taeyong jabs at your side with his finger. “Will we be expecting a baby number two before this years ends?” Ten teases further, a knowing look on his face.

“You guys,” you roll your eyes but smile anyway. “The answer is no.”

Out of the three, Ten is the quickest to glare, “Oh come on! Johnny is here! What are you waiting for?”

“Johnny is indeed here,” Johnny pipes up beside Ten who happens to be nearby to hear his name being mentioned. He looks at you, quirking an eyebrow, “What’s happening?”

Jaehyun smirks at you and you glare at him in warning. “Y/n over here wants a playmate for Young—”

Jaehyun doesn’t get to finish his sentence when you launch a balled up piece of tissue his way, hitting him square in his pretty face. But it didn’t seem to matter because Johnny appears to have caught on, a mischievous glint now coating his eyes.

“Is this an invitation, babe?” Johnny teases, raising his brows up and down at you.

You sigh and roll your eyes, “You boys are unbelievable.”

Some time in the evening, when all the guests have left, including Youngho who insists on staying with is grandparents for the night, you head upstairs to wash up and take a long shower after much convincing from Johnny who insists he’s okay with finishing up the cleaning. But as soon as you finish with your nightly routine, Johnny is calling you from downstairs.

“I told you I should’ve stayed and helped—”

Your eyes widen at what your eyes come across as soon as you enter the kitchen. The lights have been dimmed and in the centre of the room, is a table for two people, clad in red velvet cloth and candles, plates for two on opposite sides and wine glasses to accompany each one, music playing quietly in the background. There’s rose petals scattered around where the table is situated and then your eyes catch him, Johnny, standing right beside the table, a single red rose in his hand, smiling at you gently.

“Happy birthday my love,” he says before he’s walking over to you and handing you the rose in exchange for your hand so that he can lead you to your seat.

Johnny has definitely outdone himself again tonight.

“Another surprise?” you say weakly, another wave of emotions gushing at you. “I’m not quite dressed for the event,” you chuckle and look down at Johnny’s white t-shirt that you grabbed out of nowhere earlier paired with shorts.

Johnny chuckles and pulls out your chair for you to sit, pushing it back in slightly when you do, “Not to worry. You always look beautiful no matter what you wear.”

When you take a closer look, you realise Johnny’s served his famous steak and you watch as he takes his own seat, proceeding to pour red wine for the both of you. When he finishes, you raise your glasses up, sharing a toast in celebration of another year of your life. You fall into mindless conversations about the day as you both eat, asking him about everything that went on behind the scenes for today to happen and as he speaks, you realise just how much this man must really love you for him to go through such lengths to make you feel extra loved on a day you never really celebrated anymore.

From across the table and beyond the candles, Johnny gives you a knowing look that suggests something you didn’t think you’d be doing tonight when your favourite song plays distantly in the background. You watch him carefully with an incredulous smile as he rises from his seat in a prince-like manner. He reaches your seat then and offers a hand.

“May i please have the pleasure of being your first dance tonight?” he asks politely, body slightly bowing towards you. You laugh involuntarily and raise a brow playfully, “come on babe, for old time’s sake.”

The shining of his eyes encourage you to accept his request and you do so by placing your hand in his outstretched one. “Certainly, Mr Suh.”

Johnny finds both of his hands on either side of your waist while yours sit comfortably on his chest. You both sway side to side and waves of nostalgia come flooding back to you, remembering the last time you had the opportunity to spontaneously dance with him like this was in the confinement of your cozy home was five years ago.

“I really missed this,” Johnny says, bringing you back to reality while staring down at you. You look up to meet his eyes and the familiar sense of longing for the very first person you’ve ever loved comes back.

“I did too,” you whisper faintly. A smile grazes his lips, gently squeezing at you by the hips. “Johnny is it okay if I—“

“Always love, you don’t even have to ask,” he cuts you off. You lean your head on Johnny’s chest, a habit you always showed back then when you found yourself swaying with him to songs you both loved. The familiarity of the situation and how it feels to be this close to him makes you silently wish time would stand still, at least just for tonight.

Johnny pulls a palm higher up your back and begins to rub it in a soothing manner, both of you soaking it all in. He presses a kiss on your temple and you can’t help but notice a subtle change in the pace of his heartbeat as it picks up its pace, a complete contrast to how calm he is on the outside.

But then you understand why.

“Hey y/n.”

And then you start to feel your heartbeat pick up too because if anything, when Johnny began with those two words along with his gentle voice, it always seemed to change your life forever afterwards.

“Mhm?”

“Marry me.”

You immediately lift your head off his chest, your eyes widening up at him, fearing you might have heard wrong. But you know you didn’t because he’s staring down at you with eyes full of... love.

“Johnny—”

“I don’t have a ring yet.. but the moment felt too right for me not to ask you,” Johnny explains, a nervous smile now appearing on his lips. “But I have been meaning to ask you, for the longest time now, it’s just I never knew when but tonight—”

“Yes.”

Johnny’s eyes widen this time. “W-what?”

“Yes.”

“Yes?”

“Yes I’ll marry you.”

Johnny’s eyes soften as yours brim with tears. “Really?”

You nod as he smiles, “Yes really.”

Johnny’s hands leave your body, palms now caressing your face, his touch warm and gentle and his lips on yours even more gentler. Johnny held you like you were the most delicate thing he’s ever touched and at that moment, for the first time you knew, he was the only man you’d ever want to spend the rest of your life with.

Lacuna. A missing or blank piece.

All this time, Johnny had been yours.

And this time, he was here to fill all of it.

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